Home Away From Home
by The Box of Mystery
Summary: Vivian Bennett is recruited as a civilian nurse during N.E.S.T.'s construction. From the moment she steps off the plane, she realizes that life on the island base will be far from routine.
1. New Home, New Life

Vivian had spent years dreaming of what island life would be like. No one bothered to mention the typhoons. Or the monsoons. Or the mosquitoes.

"Dammit, go away!" she grumbled as she crushed the bloodsucker on her arm. It seemed like each time she killed one, ten more would arrive to take its place.

The thought had barely crossed her mind when she felt her skin prickle on her shoulder. She glanced over to find yet another mosquito.

"Get off me, you vampire!" she yelled and smacked at it. After a couple of seconds, she raised her hand to inspect the damage. All that remained was a bloody smear.

_This is just pathetic,_ she thought as she wiped her hand on her pants. _I haven't even been on Diego Garcia for 24 hours, and I'm already sick of it._

Vivian's older brother Christian worked as a contractor for the military, and he was always on the lookout for opportunities to work overseas. The chance finally came two months ago when he received a call asking if he would be interested in working on an island base in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Chris accepted, of course. That came as no surprise to her. What did surprise her, though, was when he asked if they needed any medical staff for the civilian workers and suggested Vivian as a possible candidate. She was working as an elementary school nurse at the time, and was perfectly comfortable in her current position. Why he bothered to recommend her was beyond her comprehension. When she asked him about it, he said, "Sis, you haven't set foot out of Georgia since you popped out of Mom. Don't you want to see what the rest of the world looks like?"

"Sure I do!" she told him. "I'm just waiting for when I have time."

That was when he took her hand, looked her in the eye, and said, "Viv, you're _never_ going to have time. You have to _make _time."

Chris left a week later, but his words lingered in her mind long afterwards. He had a point, a rare event for someone whose idea of fun was to knock down a wasp nest with a baseball bat. She spent the next month at the school pulling out splinters and patching up scraped knees on some of the more rambunctious youngsters.

Then, about two weeks ago, she was woken up by a phone call from the same officer. Apparently the nurse who accepted the position on the island base had resigned due to medical reasons, ironically enough, and Vivian's name had been brought up as an immediate replacement.

Vivian promptly asked, "Did my brother put you up to this?"

The officer on the other end laughed and assured her that while Chris had in fact mentioned her, he had no final say in who would be considered for the position. Knowing that Chris would never let her live this down unless she tried, Vivian allowed herself to be submitted for a background check.

Three weeks and three interviews with imposing military aides later, Vivian found herself on a plane bound for Diego Garcia. Surrounded by soldiers and officials on all sides, she was clearly in the minority. She spent most of the trip sleeping, but when she was awake and bored, she occasionally caught snippets of conversations from her fellow passengers.

". . . haven't seen them since Mission City . . ."

"Everything you ever heard about 'em? All true."

". . . won't share their technology with us, but I can see why . . ."

"The big guy's nice, but I've seen what happens when you get on his bad side. Just watch him when he talks to Galloway. You'll see what I mean."

It was at that moment Vivian realized that she was mangling her flight magazine to shreds and crammed what was left of it back into the seat compartment.

When her plane finally touched down on the island, it was pitch-black dark and pouring buckets. By the time she made it down the stairs and onto the runway, her umbrella was so battered by the rain that it completely buckled under, drenching her in seconds. Chris was waiting for her with a bear hug and, thankfully, shared a large umbrella with a handsome young officer who introduced himself as Major Will Lennox. His warm brown eyes and youthful demeanor set her at ease, although the wedding band glistening on his ring finger left her somewhat crestfallen. They shook hands, grabbed her luggage, climbed into Lennox's Jeep, and drove off towards the civilians' living quarters.

"Is it always like this?" Vivian asked as she dried herself off with a blue beach towel. She wanted to be presentable, but given the circumstances, she probably looked about as pitiful as a wet cat.

"Nope," Chris said. "You just got here during the monsoon season. It's only like this for about three months out of the year."

"Oh joy," she muttered. "The one time I go anywhere and I end up in the worst possible weath—How did that get by regulations?!"

"That" was a large semi-truck parked by the runway. Lights from the airport flickered across the orange-red flames that streaked from grille to cab, catching her attention. The darkness rendered its blue body invisible otherwise.

Lennox snatched a glance to where she was pointing. "Oh, that's our commander -commander's truck."

"A bit flamboyant for the military, isn't it?"

"It's on loan to us. We're still unloading supplies and building materials, and we need something to help us ship them back and forth from the airport."

"Gotcha." Vivian started asking the usual questions about her quarters, what life would be like on Diego Garcia and so forth. Over the course of the ride, however, she noticed that Lennox would now and then take a short pause before he spoke, and his answers were deliberate but somewhat forced. It was obvious he was trying to plan out his words before saying them, but it was even more evident that he was treading around something. What it was, he never said, but she decided for his sake to ignore it for the time being.

Eventually the conversation died down to just intermittent muttering between Lennox and Chris. She strained to listen, but the rain pounding against the roof of the Jeep drowned them out. After a few minutes, she gave up and contented herself with sitting back and staring out the window at the gloomy scenery rushing by.

Not even the weather could disguise the monotonous flat landscape. According to the pamphlets and packets the aides provided for her, Diego Garcia, named after the Spanish explorer who discovered it, was once blanketed with thick impenetrable jungles. Once the French claimed it in the late eighteenth century, settlers started to cut them down in order to build coconut plantations, as well as leper colonies. Over the course of two centuries, the island fell under British jurisdiction, who then later on shared the land at the request of the United States. As the territory changed hands, more forests were cleared to make room for military facilities and airports on the western coast. Even now, she could see expansive patches of grass and sedges that had been meticulously mowed and maintained.

"How far are we from the actual base?" she asked, breaking the lull of silence.

Lennox perked up at the question. "Hm? Oh, the base? You just saw it. It's still under construction, though, so there's not much to see right now."

"No kidding! It looked almost finished!"

"That was just the airport. We've still got a long ways to go, but yeah, it's already pretty impressive."

"If that's what it looks like now, I can't wait to see how it looks after the construction's all done!"

Chris turned in his seat to look at her. "Actually, we won't," he said. "It's for military personnel only, so we won't be touring the place once it's fully up and running."

"Really?" Vivian asked, trying hard to mask her disappointment. "Well, that doesn't seem fair. You built it! Why shouldn't you get the chance to see it?"

"A lot of what we're dealing with right now is classified," Lennox explained, "so the fewer unenlisted who know about it, the better."

"Everyone has their secrets, I guess." Vivian slumped back in her seat. She was so eager to see what Chris had been working on all this time. Now she never would.

"Hey, cheer up back there, Miss Bennett," the major said with a smile. "You might get a chance to tour the base at some point, just not now. We need to work the kinks out first, you know? Maybe N.E.S.T. will make itself known to the world eventually, but right now, that's not in the works."

"Wait, what's N.E.S.T.?"

"Oh hey, we're here!"

Vivian was too busy listening to Lennox to notice that they had turned onto a paved gravel driveway. What the headlights unveiled at the end of it did not impress her.

"A trailer? I'm living in a trailer?"

"No, that's your station," Lennox said. "I know it doesn't look like much, but it's actually fairly spacious. Want to check it out?"

Vivian looked to Chris, who gave her a thumbs-up for encouragement. "Well, we're already here," she consented with a shrug. "Might as well."

The Jeep's tires crunched over the pebbles as it creaked to a stop. Lennox switched off the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Wait here; I'll come get you." He grabbed the umbrella stashed under his seat, swung open the door and hopped out. Within five seconds, his uniform was almost completely soaked through, appearing more black than army green now.

After spending a few moments struggling with the umbrella, which seemed to be just as obstinate as the major wrangling it into submission, Lennox finally managed to wrench it open. Vivian tried to disguise her giggle as a cough when he came around to fetch her. He gave no sign that he saw through the ruse, but that could have been a combination of his training and male pride coming into play.

Before she stepped out, she snatched up the towel and held it out to him. "Here, Major, before you catch pneumonia," she said without a hint of condescension. "I imagine you've braved many missions during your career, but braving the elements shouldn't be what brings you down."

Lennox smiled, erasing the staid solemn face of a soldier. "Thank you, ma'am, but I'm fine. This feels great, to be honest!" They huddled under the umbrella and marched towards the trailer. "It's been so hot and muggy that no one can get comfortable. You feel all sticky and your clothes cling to your skin. It's like your body can't sweat, you know what I mean? It wants to, but it can't."

"Sounds like summers back home. Don't worry. The rain should help cool things down a bit."

"If anything, it'll break up the humidity. I've been stationed out in the desert before, and yeah, it gets hot, but it's a dry heat. I can deal with that. But here, the humidity makes it godawful!"

The pair soon reached a small flight of metal stairs on the far right leading into the trailer. Lennox strode on ahead, taking the steps two at a time. "I still can't believe we're posted here. Honestly, I'm surprised the Pentagon took the suggestion seriously." He pulled a large metal key ring out of his pocket and started flipping through the various keys dangling on it.

Vivian stood close behind under the shelter of his umbrella, watching him with idle curiosity. "And who gave them that bright idea?"

Lennox held up a key sporting a bright red label. "I did." He shoved it into the lock and fiddled with the doorknob as he continued. "My superiors were searching for a location that was isolated and inaccessible to the outside world. It's hard to keep a secret if everyone can get to it. I brought up Diego Garcia, which has nothing but military personnel roaming around, thanks to the naval base. It's also not exactly easy to get to, as you've probably figured out by now, and not many civilians know about this place. I wasn't sure they'd agree with me, but they took the suggestion to committee and gave me the green light to start building the training facility here."

"Wait, so this whole base was your idea?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lennox admitted with a grin. "It's my baby. Well, it's partially mine. I'm pretty sure one of the higher-ups convinced them to make up their minds."

He turned the knob and thrust his shoulder into the door. The major turned to gesture inside. "After you, ma'am."

"Please, call me Miss Bennett, Major," Vivian laughed as she stepped inside. "I understand you're being polite, but 'ma'am' makes me feel old. The kids back home think 27 is old. I don't need to feel it . . . too."

If she thought it was dark outside, it was downright sinister in the trailer. The faint stench of antiseptic tingled in her nostrils, the only indication that a nurse's office was located somewhere in this vacuous black hole. Vivian groped her hand along the wall feeling for a light switch, which the darkness quickly swallowed as soon as she reached inside. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, but the impenetrable wall of shadows remained.

"We've renovated this thirty-foot trailer so that it splits into three rooms: One for waiting, one for examination, and one for supplies." Lennox directed a hand to the middle, left, and farther left, designating each separate compartment. "Each room has solar-powered lights with motion sensors to conserve energy, so if you want the lights to come on, you have to step inside first. Not right now, though," he said, gripping her arm to stop her from going in. "I'm sorry, but we don't get that much sunlight during the monsoon season, and we need to keep those batteries charged as close to capacity as we can. Maybe tomorrow, when the rain lets up a bit. Any questions so far?"

"Yeah. Where's the restroom?"

"There's one in your quarters about forty feet away. Do you need to-"

Vivian rounded on him almost immediately. "You mean to tell me that I'm supposed to work in a health station without running water?!"

Lennox took a wary step back. "We've provided hand sanitizer and disinfecting sprays to-"

"It's not just that!" she yelled, more so she could be heard over the torrential downpour than out of irritation. "What if I get a patient who comes in throwing up? I don't want to tell them to hurl over the railing, or worse, go into my house and use my toilet! I need some form of plumbing out here!"

"There's a reason for that, Miss Bennett," the major explained to the aggravated nurse. "In the event that we're overwhelmed with wounded and need extra supplies, we can just drive a truck over, hitch the trailer up and drive back to base with it."

"And I'd better be going along with it, if it's that critical!" she stated with an air of finality, and planted her hands on her hips to emphasize her point.

Lennox stared down at the woman, trying hard not to crack a smirk. She was certainly a great deal more obstinate than the first nurse. "If it ever comes to that, we'll see. In the meantime, though, you'll be staying here treating the other civilians for minor injuries and illnesses. Anything more serious will be reported to the hospital on base. As for the running water situation, I'll need to talk that over with the commander and see what we can come up with."

"I don't care if you have to nail down a Port-A-Potty next door! We need something out here now!"

The major laid a calming hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Miss Bennett, I promise that we'll get this resolved as soon as possible. It might not happen right away, considering everything else that's going on right now, but I'll keep you posted. Okay?"

Vivian breathed a sharp sigh through her nose. This was an oversight that should never have been disregarded, not just for her sake, but for the sake and overall health of her future patients. "Alright," she ceded. "But I'm only saying that because I'm going to keep nagging you about it. Running water is 'Hygiene 101', you know. It's essential!"

"I know it is," Lennox said. "And we'll get it taken care of as soon as we can." He shut the door with a decisive slam and assisted her back down the ribbed stairs. "The commander wants to make sure everyone's happy, but he's also a realist. The moment he comes back, I'll bring it up."

"I also heard that he's not a big fan of Galloway."

The major tensed, pausing in mid-step. "Where'd you hear that?"

"On the plane. Someone mentioned how he apparently gets on the commander's 'bad side'."

Vivian thought she caught a glimpse of relief flitting across his features. "Oh, it's not just him, it's everyone! He may be the National Security Advisor to the President, but that doesn't mean we'll all agree with him, which he expects us to do, for some reason. He's actually opposed to us being out here, along with - - Let me put it this way," Lennox said, trying to summarize his tirade. "He makes Congress look competent."

She winced. "That's atrocious!"

"Yeah, but it's true! He's a typical bureaucrat: The only smarts he's got is in his suit."

They stepped onto the driveway, where Lennox waved at Chris, who sat in the Jeep with his feet propped up on the dashboard. As if waiting for the cue, he promptly heaved himself back into an upright position, wrenched himself around and started rummaging in the backseat.

"We're going to head on over to your house while Chris grabs your luggage." Lennox reached to his side and unhooked the flashlight fastened to his belt. "I know you're a little disappointed with the trailer, but hopefully this will make up for it."

A faint beam of light sputtered to life from his flashlight. It was no match for the weather, which consumed the pale glow almost instantly, but it would have to suffice for now.

"Stay close, okay?"

Vivian had no problem complying with that order. "What about Chris? Shouldn't we wait for him?"

"I'll go back for him once you're inside."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to just drive the Jeep up here?"

"It's overdue for maintenance, but it was the only one I could find on short notice. I don't want to take any unnecessary risks right now, not with the ground as soaked as it is."

She only had to glance down at her feet to prove his point. The sand squelched with every step they took, and Vivian in particular had to be mindful of where she walked. While Lennox could stride across the terrain with confidence, her sandals were distinctively lacking in regards to traction. Twice she had to grab his arm to avoid a potentially humiliating nosedive into the dirt, an act which brought back memories of her first and last adventure involving skis, a steep snow-capped slope, and an unsuspecting pine tree.

"There it is!" Lennox yelled. "Home sweet home!"

Vivian could not deny that the house had its charm. Seeing the cottage resting on reinforced wooden stilts reminded her of the story of Baba Yaga and the house that stood on chicken feet. The childhood memory stirred a smile to her face.

Lennox returned it with one of his own. "Great! I'm glad you like it! Ready to check out the interior?"

"Well, since there aren't any lamp posts and Gene Kelly hasn't shown up yet, I'd say yes."

The major replied with a blank stare.

"You know, Gene Kelly? 'Singing in the Rain'?"

Nothing.

"Okay, that was a waste of everyone's time. Never mind, then. Let's head on up!"

The outdated reference did not appear to faze him in the slightest. "It's fantastic that you're so eager to see it," he said as they mounted the stairs.

Vivian interrupted his optimistic train of thought with another question. "It's been raised, what, six feet off the ground? Does the tide really come in that far?"

"On occasion, if there's stormy weather at sea. Mostly it's because of the crabs."

It took her about ten seconds for her to spit out a response. "CRABS?"

"Yeah, we've got robber crabs, or coconut crabs, whichever you prefer. They're basically the same thing, but anyway," Lennox continued while he fumbled for the key ring yet again, "they swarm the jungles at night. Normally they stay away from people, but sometimes they get a little curious and want to check things out. That's why your house has been raised off the ground. You're living in a more isolated location, and they'll be more tempted to poke around the place, so it acts as kind of a deterrent for them. The height of the stairs is steeper, too, for that reason."

Vivian could hardly believe the words pouring out of his mouth. "They can climb stairs too?!"

Lennox wrenched off a key with a lime green label. "Oh, they try!" he said as he shoved it into the lock. "These things weigh about eight-and-a-half pounds on average. If there's enough of them around, they just climb over each other and crawl their way up from-"

Vivian was growing paler by the second. The idea of a waterbug skittering on her wall was enough to send her into a screaming fit, but the thought that a giant crab could climb up to her front door was a terrifying prospect.

Lennox paid little attention to her. He was currently occupied with yet another stuck door. It submitted to his will after he rammed it three times with his shoulder, the knob slamming against the inside wall.

"This is it," he said, breathing hard from effort.

"You want some ice for that?" she asked, genuinely concerned. "You've been abusing that shoulder quite a lot today."

He waved her off. "Nah, I'm good. I've done worse, trust me. Sorry about the doors, by the way. That's another downside to the whole humidity situation: They absorb the moisture and swell up."

Vivian shook her head. Clearly this man never lived in the South. "If that's the only technological issue I'll have to deal with, then I'll survive. Those are nothing new to me."

"Okay, good. I'm going to head back to get Chris and help him with your luggage. How about you take a look around and see what you think?"

"Sure thing!" No sooner had she spoken the words than the major vanished back outside, leaving her alone in the empty house.

Vivian wandered into what appeared to be the living room, its walls pale and blank, demanding to be cluttered with shelves or photos of loved ones back home. She nearly let out a whoop of joy when she spotted the dim outline of a light switch panel halfway down the wall beside her. The next couple of minutes were spent testing the three switches to find out where exactly they fit in the grand scheme that was this house. She flipped the first one and was promptly blinded by the bright light overhead. For a moment, she expected a voice to speak glad tidings or some form of divine communication, but it just blithely hummed into existence. Once the vivid splotches of color faded from view, Vivian discovered that her speculations were correct. She was in fact in the living room. It had been modestly furnished with a couch and recliner, both of which were a faded turquoise that was intended to be sea foam, and were situated in front of the television on the opposite wall.

The second switch, for some inexplicable reason, illuminated the kitchen just beyond. Four pallid cabinets had been installed on an equally ashen wall. A quick peek inside confirmed that she could cross off dishware and glasses on her shopping list. The stainless steel sink seemed to be in working order. She turned the handle and was relieved when a steady stream of water poured out of the faucet.

"If there's plumbing here, then getting some for the health station shouldn't be a problem."

Vivian tried the third switch. A loud cry from outside promptly followed.

Panicked by the sound, she raced back to the door. "What happened?" she yelled out.

It took little guesswork to answer her question. Chris lay flat on his back at the foot of the stairs, gazing mutely up at the sky with her luggage flanking him on either side. Lennox laughed at the dumbfounded expression on his face, as if he truly had no idea how he ended up there.

"Oh my God! Chris, are you okay?! You didn't fall down the steps, did you? Did you break anything?"

"He's fine," Lennox replied for her brother. "The porch lights came on and they scared him a bit. He took a little spill and just slid the rest of the way. Kind of like a Slip 'N Slide."

"Yeah," Chris groaned as he sat up, "except they don't exfoliate your skin on the way down."

"No, they're not supposed to," Vivian chimed in, "but if they're not wet enough, they do try to peel off the first layer. Remember the one time when you were seven and you couldn't wait for Dad to turn the hose on? Talk about friction burn!"

"Yeah. I've hated Slip 'N Slides ever since."

Lennox failed to stifle a chuckle as he pulled Chris to his feet. "C'mon, man. Let's go."

Vivian held the door open while they gathered up her luggage, climbed the stairs and trudged inside. She shook her head at the sight of her brother's back caked in sandy mud.

"Here you go," he said and dropped her suitcases down on the linoleum.

"Thank you, kind sir," she teased. "This'll be reflected in your tip." Before he could spit back a retort, she wrapped him in a hug, making sure to give him an extra squeeze.

Chris surrendered and hugged her back. "That'll be twenty dollars, ma'am."

"Shut up!"

"Okay, you two," Lennox interrupted, "I hate to break this up, but I just got a message from the commander and I need to head on out."

"It's alright; he's all yours." Vivian shoved her brother towards the major. "Catch you later, Chris!"

"Bye, squirt!" Chris dodged a swipe from his sister before ducking out the door.

Lennox approached her once the commotion subsided. "Enjoy your evening, Miss Bennett," he said. "I don't know if you had a chance to check out your bedroom, but your laptop and cell phone are already set up for you. Just follow the packet of instructions and you're ready to go."

_Great. More paperwork. Woohoo._

"Thank you, Major, I appreciate it. I do have one question, though."

"Ask away."

"Why am I all the way out here? Shouldn't I be living in the civilian quarters?"

Lennox crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe, and sighed. Vivian wondered if the constant stream of questions annoyed him. "Remember when I said that the trailer was designed for a specific reason?" he asked. "Well, so is this. You're here because we need you here. If, like you said, we needed an extra hand, we can pick you up along with the trailer. But I wouldn't recommend being in the trailer if or when that happens. It's a matter of convenience and easy access."

"Right." She braced her back on the wall. His answer should have comforted her in regards to her role, but somehow it made her more apprehensive.

It must have shown on her face, because Lennox relaxed and softened his voice. "I know this all seems really haphazard, like we just threw it together at the last minute. But let me be the first to tell you that you're not the only one who feels that way. I'm watching this base grow and I can't help but wonder if I've overlooked something, like the plumbing for instance," he confessed before she tried to interject. "I promise you, though, that there is a reason and a purpose for everything and everyone here."

The buzzing cell phone in his back pocket shocked them back to some semblance of awareness. Lennox picked it up and looked at the screen. "Ah hell, he's getting impatient. At least I think he is. It's hard to tell with text. But anyway," he said, putting his phone away, "I hope you have a good night, Miss Bennett. Try to get some sleep; you'll feel better."

"Hey, who's the nurse, here?" she joked.

Lennox trotted out the door, down the stairs and back to the Jeep. Vivian waved at the two men as they pulled away and then closed the door behind her, retreating to the relative comfort of her new home.

The couch seemed especially tempting, but the luggage at her feet demanded immediate attention. She grabbed her bags and dragged them through the living room, praying that they were leaving a minimal trail of sand along the floor in the process. A cream-colored door stood ajar just down the hall, waiting for her to enter.

All the exhaustion, stress, and bewilderment from her trip overwhelmed her all at once. As soon as she walked into her bedroom, Vivian burst into tears. She knew it was stupid for her to be weeping like a five-year-old right now, but the whole experience thus far was highly nerve-wracking, especially for a homebody like herself.

It was made even worse when she caught her reflection in the mirror across the room. Thanks to the rain, her red t-shirt and blue jeans appeared three shades darker. Gray-blue eyes gazed back at her through strands of dark brown hair that clung to her pale face. To her mind, she looked, and felt, if it was possible, like a rag doll that was accidentally thrown in the wash.

A clicking noise and cold white glow from the opposite side of the bedroom attracted her attention. Whoever designed the layout of the house had the infinite wisdom to place a desk beside her bed. Her new laptop and smartphone lay beside each other on its surface, waiting for her to utilize them. In fact, the computer was already on, displaying an email page. Vivian wiped her face with the beach towel still in her hand and made her way over to take a look at the screen.

There was a single unopened email titled "Welcome" in bold black letters. She clicked on it and skimmed through the message.

"'Welcome to Diego Garcia', blah blah blah, 'we hope you enjoy your stay', blah blah blah, signed 'N.E.S.T.'. Hey, what's this?"

Vivian scrolled down to find a P.S. in the email. "'P.S. Miss Vivian Bennett, it has come to my attention that you require plumbing services at your health station. The appropriate personnel have been notified and will contact you regarding installation within the next 24 hours. I apologize for any inconvenience this oversight may have caused, and I hope any misgivings you may currently have concerning our organization will be dispelled.' Huh. That was fast! Where's Major Lennox's email? I need to send him a "Thank You'!"

Just as she reached forward to type, a mosquito landed on her arm. She crushed it in one blow, but then another touched down on her hand. How they managed to survive the deluge outside was nothing short of miraculous.

Half an hour later, the battle raged on.

_So much for "dispelling my misgivings"._

"Welcome to N.E.S.T.," she mumbled as she mashed the umpteenth mosquito tonight. "Please accept our housewarming gifts of rain, crabs, and malaria."


	2. New Faces

Hello again, everyone! Before we begin, there are a few people on I need to give my thanks to:

First, I want to thank Elhini Prime, FireChild24, Hitsugaya Aiko, KeepingThemAtBay, RamenKnight, colitas, and heavenslilagl420 for adding "Home Away From Home" to their Story Alerts!

I would also like to thank FireChild24, KeepingThemAtBay, and Ryanarima for putting this story on their Favorites List!

KeepingThemAtBay: Thanks for the review! I have to say I was blown away when I read how your teacher was actually stationed in Diego Garcia. And I'd be joining you in the freak-out over the crab!

heavenslilagl420: Thank you! You have your wish! :-)

RamenKnight: Thanks! Hopefully I won't disappoint you! :-)

And now . . . *drumroll* . . . here's the latest installment!

* * *

Last night had not been nearly as recuperative as she hoped.

Vivian slapped at mosquitoes until well past midnight, when they decided to bid a swift but puzzling retreat. She reveled in what she knew was a transient victory. They would come back to feast on her blood and sanity sooner or later. She preferred the latter, naturally, but until then, she could at least try to relax. Riled up by her lengthy battle with the vampiric pests, Vivian needed to find something to ease herself into a more tranquil state of mind.

The smartphone and computer instruction packet seemed like an ideal place to start. After changing into a tank-top and a pair of pajama shorts, she settled down onto the twin bed and began flipping through the pages. Her luggage lay abandoned on the floor; although the contents were mostly clothes, the very thought of unpacking exhausted her. It could wait until tomorrow.

She spent half an hour skimming through the text, but while it had been written in a rather dry and tedious style, she was still not relaxed enough to fall asleep. The discovery of an attached second packet detailing N.E.S.T. civilian life piqued her curiosity. After poring over it for just a few minutes, though, the seemingly benign stack of information crushed every hope she had of gaining any rest. First, she learned that there were no stores in the civilian community, so the very idea of a shopping list was immaterial. Furthermore, there was no pharmacy. N.E.S.T. sought only to bring the hardiest and healthiest of enlisted and civilians alike to Diego Garcia. Everyone in consideration had been subjected to rigorous, and what she deemed borderline invasive, health screenings. During one of the final examinations, she commented to the gruff doctor probing her, "If you're going to do that, you could at least buy me dinner first."

Anyone who took prescription medication was immediately dismissed from further review. N.E.S.T. wanted to remain as isolated as possible; contacting the nearby naval base or even the mainland for refills not only defeated the purpose, but also cost the base valuable resources. According to the reading material, over-the-counter medicines could be obtained from the health stations. Any illness or condition necessitating further treatment required a trip to the base hospital, which would most likely end with a one-way trip back home. At first glance, this health policy seemed rather callous. No one in their right mind would want to catch a lethal disease or injure themselves to such a severe degree, and the higher-ups understood that. Still, precautions had to be taken to guarantee N.E.S.T.'s continued seclusion on Diego Garcia, and if it meant discharging a civilian worker for breaking his leg, even by accident, then so be it.

This gave Vivian great cause for worry. Chris was notorious for his bizarre injuries, but the one he often bragged about was a dislocated shoulder he earned when, at seventeen, he jumped out the attic window to see if he could land on the shed nearly twenty feet below. When they arrived at the emergency room half an hour later, Vivian, who was thirteen at the time, asked him why the hell he would do something so stupid. He simply shrugged the one shoulder still in its socket and grumbled, "Because shut up." From that moment on, the incident had been dubbed "The Dumbass Affair".

There had been no more "affairs" since then, and Vivian hoped this was a sign that Chris had outgrown his recklessness, but his reputation for moronic wounds haunted him like a curse. She prayed he would at least attempt to be cautious for his own sake, if not for hers. With this thought burdening her mind, she set her alarm on her new phone, lay back, and was sound asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Or she wished she was.

Even as a child, Vivian could never sleep well the first night in a new location. The steady rain pattering against the roof should have had a soothing effect, but not this time. She lay there for hours staring up at the ceiling, memorizing every fleck of stucco overhead as if they were stars in a constellation.

By the time her alarm rang a few hours later, Vivian had lost all faith in the Sandman. She rolled off the bed, having never bothered to pull up the covers in the first place, rifled through her suitcases for her bathroom essentials and immediately sought refuge in a hot shower. After completing her morning routine, she dressed in her scrubs, wound her hair up in a bun and headed straight for the kitchen. It was after she opened all the cupboards that she made an appalling discovery:

There was no coffee.

"Son – of – a - bitch!" she grumbled, slamming each door shut with every syllable. A notion sprang to mind that the former nurse who lived here may not have been a coffee drinker, but she was in too much of a sour mood to give it any consideration. Infuriated that she was being deprived her morning life-line, Vivian grabbed her phone, shoved it in her purse and marched out the door.

The rainfall had died down drastically since last night. A soft, steady shower seeped into the ground below, each droplet leaving a pockmark in the sand. Vivian mourned the loss of the umbrella that had been a faithful companion for almost a decade, but it was not designed to withstand the might of a monsoon. Sadly, it was the only one she brought with her.

"Well," she muttered, trying to stay positive, "at least I don't have far to walk. I won't melt."

The distinct lack of monstrous crabs clustered on or around her front steps offered some additional small comfort to her grated nerves. She had already endured enough for one morning; convincing a horde of ornery crustaceans to scuttle back into the jungle was the last problem she needed to sort out. Grateful for this sliver of optimism, she slid her hand inside her purse.

"Are you f-g kidding me?!"

In his haste to respond to his commander's summons, Major Lennox had forgotten to hand over the keys to the house and trailer. This mindless slipup carried a double-edged blow. Until she obtained them, which would be at his earliest convenience, meaning God knows when, her house would be left wide open to anyone passing through. She doubted breaking and entering, or just entering, in this case, would be an issue here. Nevertheless, she could never allow such naïve conceptions to dull her suspicions regarding the duplicitous nature of humanity. Even worse, her health station was still locked up tight from yesterday's tour. If a civilian needed first aid, they would encounter an unyielding door and a disgruntled nurse. Endless "What if?" scenarios nagged at her like one of the mosquitoes from the night before, except she could not disperse them so easily with a wave of her hand.

Vivian pounded a fist against the railing, silencing her thoughts. She would call or leave an email for Major Lennox, but other than that, there was absolutely nothing she could do about the missing keys. The rest of the whole damn world and its problems could wait. She needed coffee. _Now._

Three minutes later found Vivian jogging into the civilian community, gazing around at the small beige houses surrounding her. They all looked exactly the same, "cookie cutter" houses, as she liked to call them, and they had been built in a curve following the gravel road. It reminded her of the cul-de-sac neighborhood she lived in as a child.

Ahead of her stood a large, squat building with the words "CALL CENTER" painted in white letters on its reinforced glass doors. In spite of its official appearance, its flat but overhanging roof imparted the appearance of a shoebox with the lid pressed on tight. The wide road encircled the call center, making it an island unto itself, as well as her first port of call.

The door eased open with a slight push; bells wrapped around the inside handle jingled at her arrival. A blonde secretary, who appeared to be in her spry mid-twenties, glanced up from the substantial pile of paperwork on her desk. She greeted Vivian with a broad grin and wide brown eyes to match. "Good morning, ma'am! How can I-"

Vivian wished she had a mirror. One look at her face was alarming enough to interrupt the secretary's scripted greeting. All traces of a smile vanished, leaving behind a blank and unreadable expression. She quietly set her pen down and pointed to the opposite side of the room. "Over there," she said.

The exasperated nurse followed the direction of her finger. There, sitting on the counter braced by two blue cookie canisters, was a gurgling pot of coffee. Perhaps it was not too late to salvage this disaster of a morning.

She glanced tentatively over at the secretary. "Do you mind if I-"

The woman waved her on. "Hey, that's what it's there for!" she encouraged. "Go ahead; help yourself!"

Vivian had already started pouring the caffeinated elixir of life into a styrofoam cup before the first words left her mouth. Two creamers and three heaping spoonfuls of sugar later, salvation was at last within reach. She cradled the cup in her hands for a moment or two, closing her eyes as she breathed in the tantalizing aroma. The smell alone calmed her addled mind, easing her seething anxieties to a gentle simmer.

"Can't live without it, huh?"

The secretary's question jarred her out of her java-induced meditation. She peeked over the cup at the woman, who sat at her desk watching Vivian with a bemused smirk. "Let me put it this way," the nurse said. "I have a different mug and flavor for every day of the week. Holidays, too. "

"Ah, another coffee connoisseur! We've got quite a few of those around here. I'm a mocha fiend, myself."

"So how'd you know what I was looking for?"

"I know the half-crazed frenzied look of a caffeine junkie when I see it. We've all been there once or twice, including yours truly." The secretary raised a hand in admission.

"And who is 'yours truly'?" Vivian asked.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Kate Putnam." She extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Miss . . . ?"

Vivian shook it, envying the Kate's flawless manicured nails. "Vivian Bennett. I'm the new nurse here."

"So you're Amanda's replacement, huh? Great! I was wondering how long it would take for them to find someone to take her spot."

"It was pretty quick, from what I understand. Her resignation, I mean. Do you know why she left in the first place?"

Kate brushed a stray bleached strand off her brow. Her hair had been piled up into a sloppy style that hovered in a stylistic limbo between a loose bun and an abandoned attempt at a ponytail. Vivian struggled to suppress the urge to wander over and remedy the issue. "I don't know much about it," the secretary said. "Amanda was kind of abrupt, anyway. Not a people person at all. She'd come in here every morning, grab a cup of coffee and leave without saying a word. No one ever saw her in the cafeteria, either. We all started wondering if she ever ate!"

Vivian raised a hand to interrupt her. "Where is the cafeteria, by the way?"

"Right behind us," Kate jabbed a thumb to the back wall. "There aren't many of us here, so they decided to consolidate the two buildings into one. The door's all the way around back, though, which really sucks! I'd love to have a little door cut out so I can sneak in and smuggle some coffee packets in here! OH! And maybe some danishes too! They make the best danishes here. Have you tried one yet?"

Vivian quirked an eyebrow. Interrupting Kate's flow in conversation, although with innocent intentions, had not been a brilliant move. "No, not yet, but back to Amanda. You said you didn't know a lot about why she quit. What _do_ you know?"

Thankfully, it was just as easy to restore her focus on the main topic as it was to distract her from it. "Just rumors," she said, folding her hands on her desk. "From what I've heard, she was never satisfied with anything. She kept complaining about really minor things, like the bugs and the taste of the water. Things that couldn't be helped, you know? Maybe N.E.S.T. couldn't take any of her bitching anymore."

"I did tell Major Lennox that the health station needed a functioning bathroom. It wasn't a complaint, but I hope I haven't irked him too much already."

Kate's eyes suddenly sprang open even wider as she clapped her hands together. "Major Lennox! Thank you!" She hopped out of her chair and squatted down on the floor, disappearing from view.

Vivian never noticed until now that the wall behind her was nothing but allotted cubby holes, each square labeled with a different surname and first initial. She found hers near the top: "BENNETT, V." It was empty at the moment, but she doubted it would stay that way for long.

"Found 'em!" Kate's hand surged up from the depths of her desk, grasping a pair of keys. The bearer made an appearance soon after. "I'm so glad you said that!" she gasped, hauling herself up. "Major Lennox dropped by earlier this morning with these and said to tell you he was sorry. If you hadn't mentioned his name, I would've completely forgotten about them!"

Vivian strode over to take the keys from her. She recognized the green and red labels instantly. "Yeah, it was," she agreed. "I was about to email him about these. Looks like I'll be sending him a 'thank you' instead!"

It was then she caught a glimpse of the clock hanging over the mailboxes:

8:45 A.M.

"Holy crap! I've got to go!" Vivian rushed over to the counter and grabbed a to-go lid for her coffee cup. "I have to open my station in fifteen minutes and I haven't even checked my supplies yet!"

"Don't rush! You'll be fine!" Kate said. "At least grab something to eat before you go!"

"There's no time! I'll be fine." Vivian raced to the door and turned back to find Kate giving the nurse a critical look. "Yes, I know what a hypocrite looks like! I'll talk to you at lunch! Bye!" She ran outside before the secretary could respond.

A fine mist of rain settled onto her face as she speed-walked back to the trailer. One of the facts from the stack of Diego Garcia information packets slowly drifted back into her memory. The monsoon season lasted from May to December, with the wettest month being August. It had barely been a week into January when she left for the island base; this was just the last few dregs of showers passing through after the season's supposedly official end. Nature scoffs at humanity's rules about her, and the driving downpour that persisted from last night into this morning was no exception.

Vivian took a sip of her coffee and promptly spat it back out, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Despite the copious amounts of sugar and creamer, the coffee tasted briny, as if it had been mixed with sea water. Another ginger sip confirmed her suspicions. The coffee had been mixed with treated coastal fresh water, or "beach water", as Chris called it. Although safe to drink, it often produced a mild but unpleasant saline aftertaste, and possessed a texture that her brother, for lack of a better word, described as "gummy". She found herself tracing her tongue around the inside of her mouth, trying to rub out all traces of the bitter flavor while she stared at the cup in her hand. Yes, she could still drink it, but in the end, the taste just was not worth the bother. Saddened by the loss of her morning dose of caffeine, she pried the lid off and poured her coffee onto the ground, watching the dark brown liquid splash into the sparse grass by her feet.

The roar of an engine diverted her thoughts to the road just ahead. Clapping the lid back onto her empty cup, Vivian buried it in her purse and jogged the rest of the way to her trailer. What she saw when she turned into the driveway made her heart freeze in mid-beat. A small construction crew had assembled outside the health station carrying all their tools and other equipment, including a large digger parked just behind them. They were gathered around a woman who, Vivian assumed, was their site manager. She too was blonde, but unlike Kate, her hair was more golden and full-bodied.

Vivian drew closer, trying not to draw attention to herself. Their backs were all facing her, so no one noticed the nurse as she crept towards the health station. She kept an eye on them to ensure that they were still engrossed in their discussion. They clustered in front of a yellow Search and Rescue Hummer, which seemed fairly out of place in light of present company. To make matters more bizarre, a hot pink motorbike lay propped against the Hummer's side. Vivian assumed the bike belonged to the woman, but unless one of the construction workers drove it, whoever owned the emergency vehicle was nowhere to be seen.

"You're late."

She gasped and spun around. A man dressed in Army camo stood frowning on the steps in front of her, his arms folded across his chest. Gray streaks flowed through his shock of red hair, betraying his age. Even the ruddy stubble on his cheeks was peppered with white. What captivated her the most, though, were his vivid blue eyes that peered at her under thick eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," she said as she climbed the stairs, attempting to establish some kind of rapport with him. "I had to get my keys first."

"Which you should have had before."

"Major Lennox left without giving them to me, but that's over and done with. I've got them right here." Vivian held up the key ring as proof. "So what am I late for? Their meeting?" She nodded to the group huddled by the Hummer.

"No, that matter doesn't concern you anymore. Go ahead and get this door open. We have a lot to cover and I'm tired of waiting."

Vivian hurried up the stairs, trying not to meet his gaze as she edged her way past him. Even as she unlocked the door, she could still sense that he was glowering at her back. Her grandfather used the same scowl whenever she or Chris misbehaved, but she doubted making that comparison verbal would increase her chances of befriending this man.

The door took a little convincing to open, meaning she had to ram her shoulder into it three times before it finally acceded to her demands. Her new acquaintance stood back and watched, making no move to comment or offer any kind of assistance. Once the way inside was clear, she staggered into the trailer with the officer following within inches of her. The motion-sensitive lights flickered on, as Major Lennox said they would, unveiling a waiting room containing three black plastic folding chairs on a linoleum floor.

Her guide swept around her, ignoring the sight of Vivian clutching her sore shoulder. "Obviously, this is where you'll be receiving patients. I really don't know why I have to explain this to you, but there you have it."

She was tempted to say, "No s-t, Sherlock,", but kept quiet and followed him to the next compartment. To her dismay, another locked door blocked their progress.

"If you don't mind," he said tersely and backed away, eyeing her with increasing impatience.

Vivian unlocked the door, which swung open with little effort. She thanked whatever powers-that-be for sparing her shoulder another battering incident.

The acrid stench of disinfectant, which she barely detected in the waiting room, overwhelmed her in the nurse's office. She leaned on the examination table for support while she tried to control her coughing fit, wiping tears from her eyes with one hand while hacking into her elbow.

It must have been an awkward sight to behold, but once again, the man kept his silence. He stood in the threshold and waited for her to regain her composure. "This is where you'll be spending most of your time," he explained after a minute or two. "You'll treat your patients in here, but again, you already know this, so why bother telling you?"

_Yes, why bother? Major Lennox briefed me on this already! Why the hell are you here?!_

The officer continued unabated. "Now, keeping records. You'll be bringing your laptop in here with you every day. All of your patients' files are already on it; I uploaded them myself."

Vivian recovered just long enough to say, "Thanks. 'Preciate it."

"You're welcome. Now then, these files contain their medical histories, personal information, anything that could be remotely related to their health. Whenever a patient comes in, you'll pull up their file and update it to include the reason for their visit, your diagnosis, treatment, et cetera. You are required to send all revised medical records to me at the end of your shift; I will do the same for you. We do this so that we can keep in constant contact with one another, as well as keep each other abreast regarding the health of our civilians. Do you have any questions so far?"

"No, sir. But I do want to thank you for leaving the door open. It's been a big help." Airing out the room significantly improved her condition. The only evidence left that Vivian had suffered a cough attack at all were her eyes, tinged red from the antiseptic fumes.

The officer raised his brow, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, yes! The disinfectant! Along with updating the records, you're also required to wipe down all three compartments with antiseptic before you lock up for the night. It's in the supply room just through there." He gestured to the aforementioned section behind yet another door.

Vivian had a nagging feeling that the smell would be even more potent in the next room. She tried to delay the tour. "I just thought of something."

"Yes?"

"Major Lennox told me yesterday that this trailer could be picked up and moved to the base if extra supplies were needed. Won't they all fall out during transport?"

A small plastic counter with adjoining cabinets sat flush to the wall parallel to the examination table. Vivian squatted down, opened a door and found a variety of medical supplies stashed inside, all of which were loose. She shuffled a box of Band-Aids around the shelf to make her point clear.

"I was actually about to elaborate on that," the man said, slight surprise easing into his features. "All of the cabinets, drawers, and storage boxes can be locked. Even if the truck overturns, none of the contents will spill out. Hopefully that will never happen, but we need to be prepared for any eventualities."

"Can't argue with that."

"Good. Arguing wastes time, and I've already lost a great deal of time today waiting for you, so let's continue, shall we?"

Vivian wanted to slap the condescension out of his gruff voice. "Of course," she muttered, gritting her teeth to bite back a sarcastic comment while shoving the key into the lock. "We certainly don't want to stand around and dillydally, do we?"

The pungent cloud of sterilizer she anticipated with such dread never materialized. As the door creaked open, her nostrils were treated with a blissfully mild plastic smell. She barged on ahead of the officer, who maintained his air of minor disapproval, like a parent scrutinizing their child's mess.

Motion-sensor lights sputtered on as Vivian walked down the narrow path. Shelves upon shelves of medical supplies, all categorized and alphabetized in plastic tubs with distinct large-print labels, stood stacked against the trailer walls. Everything from thermometers to latex-free gloves to plastic slip covers for medical instruments had been stowed away here. She perused the shelves as if she were searching for a library book, studying every title she came across.

"As you can see, this is your supply room," the officer clarified needlessly. "The shelves are riveted to the walls, but they only reach about six feet up for the sake of balance and convenience. Any higher, and not only would they topple over under the sheer weight of the containers, but they would also make it nigh impossible for you to reach what you need."

"I can always grab a chair. It wouldn't be the first time."

He ignored her completely. "These tubs have been screwed in place, and although the lids snap on, they can also be strapped down for transport. Oh, and before I forget, you will also be taking a weekly inventory of your supplies and sending your report to me each Friday by 11:59:59 p.m. Accuracy is vital here, so I want you to double- and triple-check your numbers as you go. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "I do have one question, though."

"Of course you do."

"You haven't even addressed me by my name yet, much less told me yours. Is that how you talked to Amanda when she first arrived? Because if you did, I'm starting to see why she left."

Vivian had dealt with patronizing superiors before, but she was not about to spend an entire year listening to and reading his belittling comments. By voicing her thoughts now, she hoped she could curb his self-important attitude.

The officer's gaze intensified, the brilliant blue in his eyes blazing with new radiance. She thought for a moment that they glinted like lights reflecting off a mirror, but the effect ended as rapidly as its onset.

"No," he grumbled. "You have not earned my respect, so you have not earned the right to your name. As for Miss Hutchins, that conversation was one between professionals."

"So you're saying I'm not a professional?"

"Not at all. This is just a discussion that, given the choice, I would rather not have had to repeat."

Vivian planted her hands on her hips. "Fine, then. If you don't want to talk about that, we can talk about something else. Her resignation, for example. Can you tell me why she left, or is that inaccessible to hoi polloi like me?"

"I'm sorry to say that's classified, Miss Bennett."

The arguers both turned to find the source of the newcomer's voice. A woman in a black business suit lingered in the doorway, playing the role of the formerly-silent spectator. She had pulled her dark blonde hair into a long ponytail at the base of her neck, emphasizing her large hazel eyes and square jaw. Vivian immediately recognized her as the site manager from outside.

"Trying to keep the peace, eh, Eleanor?" the officer asked curtly.

"Not this time, I'm sorry to say. The commander says he needs you back on base double-time."

He eyed her narrowly. "Don't tell me that-"

"Yep, he has. Again."

The officer clapped a hand over his face. "Oh, for the love of . . ." He mumbled something unintelligible into his palm, which was probably for the best. "I swear, if they don't shred him limb from limb first, then I will for sure, and I won't be the one piecing him back together!" He turned and stormed out without another word.

Vivian shouted at his back, "Wait! You never told me your name! How the hell am I supposed to know who to send these files to?"

"I'm N.E.S.T.'s chief medical officer," he yelled behind him. "That's all you need to know!"

She tried to follow him for clarification, but Eleanor made a halting noise. "Don't," she said. "He's already riled up from earlier this morning. You don't need to add fuel to the fire."

Vivian watched his six-foot figure vanish out the door. The rev of an engine signaled his departure. "Is he always such a grouch?" she asked.

"It's just a front he puts up. He takes his role very seriously, and he expects everyone else to do the same."

"I do! But because I'm new, he doesn't think I am!"

"It's not necessarily because of that," Eleanor said with a shake of her head. "Miss Hutchins was a fantastic nurse, but she . . . well . . ."

Vivian sensed her hesitation. "Are we getting into 'classified' territory?"

"Somewhat. For simplicity's sake, let's just say that she couldn't handle it mentally. Physically, yes, but after all that happened, the stress proved to be too much and she suffered a breakdown. She couldn't take it. I'm not too worried about you, though," Eleanor said, noting the newfound apprehension on her friend's face. "You'll fare much better, I'm sure."

Vivian drummed her fingers on her thigh, a nervous habit she developed years ago. "How do you know?"

"Because you didn't back down. Believe it or not, he's actually very tenderhearted. Like I said before, that crotchety attitude is all just an act. He usually brings it out on newcomers like you to test them to see how long they'll last here."

"So did I pass, do you think?"

Eleanor stared hard at her, then flicked her gaze back to the door. "I didn't hear much, just when you started questioning his definition of 'professional'. Do I think you passed with flying colors? No, but I feel that he knows now not to mess with you too much, which is great in my opinion. I was there when he tried the same thing on Amanda, and she just folded. By the end, she was agreeing with everything he said."

"That's horrible!"

"But it was accurate. He told me afterwards that he thought she wouldn't make it six months. She barely lasted one."

Vivian rested her back against the threshold and looked down through the empty trailer. Was he the only catalyst for her breakdown? Impossible. There had to have been other factors at play here. The weather, maybe? The local wildlife? The sight of an eight-pound crab crawling into her house would be enough to induce insomnia for a week at least. What about the other civilians? Did they play some role in this? Or maybe it was the officials at N.E.S.T? What the hell happened here?

Eleanor's soft tone shattered her thoughts. "You'll be fine, Miss Bennett," she said. Vivian turned to find her standing right beside her. "Just remember that you're not alone here. Go talk to someone; make friends. Having a great laugh is one of the best ways to let go, and who knows? Maybe you'll find more than a friend here. Just try not to focus on the negatives, alright?"

Vivian attempted a smile. "I'll try, miss . . . Is it okay if I call you Eleanor?"

"That's fine," she said. "I prefer it, actually. It's not quite as stuffy or intimidating as a rank. Now, what about you? Do you like 'Vivian' or 'Miss Bennett' better?"

"Either one. I'm easy."

Footsteps in the trailer disturbed their conversation. Vivian peered through the doorway in search of their owner.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Eleanor said. "In the meantime, I emailed you a brief explanation of what we plan to do about the outdoor restrooms. We anticipate that construction should last no more than two weeks, if not completed in one. There are two sections, one for each sex, and three stalls each. Pretty basic."

"Sounds like it. I'm not too worried; I trust your judgment." Vivian led the way through the station as they talked. They emerged in the waiting room to encounter a young man coated in grime sitting in one of the folding chairs, nursing what Vivian guessed was a sprained ankle.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, Eleanor, I have a patient to see to."

"Alright, then. If you hear a lot of racket outside over the next couple of weeks, that probably means I'm there too. I'll catch you later!" She stepped outside before Vivian could respond.

Eleanor's words echoed in her mind long after the bike roared down the road back to base. '_Make friends'. 'Talk'. 'Laugh'. Advice for life in general. Looks like I have my work cut out for me._

A grunt from the man in front of her brought her back to the present. _Speaking of work, I'd better get to it!_

She reached down to shake his hand. "Hello, I'm Vivian Bennett! I'll be treating you today. Now, let's get you into the exam room and find out what the damage is."

* * *

As always, feel free to drop a review! Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!


	3. Fuss and Fight

Two weeks into the countdown, and she could honestly say that life was much more tolerable now.

Vivian sipped her Coke, the only drink she found so far that lacked a salty aftertaste. Everything was beginning to fall into place. She realized early on that her station as a civilian nurse would most likely be uneventful. To date, she had tended to a sore throat, a splinter, a severe case of nasal allergies and a jammed finger. Sundays were her days off, but considering the slow influx of patients, she saw no reason why she needed to be confined in her trailer for eight hours a day, six days a week. It was a rational notion, in her opinion, but one best kept to herself. The chief medic would probably toss her into the ocean as shark bait if she made the suggestion. Besides, the working relationship between the two was currently tenuous at best; why wreck its shaky foundation from the start? Right now, she just needed to play her role and follow whatever orders came through, and so far, she had managed to keep him pacified. She sent him any updates she made to her patients' files as necessary, and kept track of her supplies during her ridiculously ample free time, ensuring the accuracy he demanded concerning her inventory. Apart from a couple of paternally-worded reminders, Vivian rarely heard from him. She assumed this was a case of "no news is good news" and left it at that.

While the fragile camaraderie with her boss was slowly reaping its rewards, the new bathrooms, she found hard to believe, were the highlight of her month. Exactly as Eleanor claimed, they were completed within two weeks. Just this morning, she was given a "grand tour" of the ladies' room while the pipe fixtures were being adjusted next door.

"This is impressive!" Vivian said, her voice echoing off the tile walls. "I didn't expect it to be finished so quickly!"

Eleanor simply smiled. "I'm glad that you're pleased with the results. I just wish the weather had cooperated with us, otherwise we would have been in here a week earlier."

The last bout of rain had soaked the sand to the point where it was more liquid than solid. Construction workers sloshed through mud that bore the consistency of coarse gruel, flooding their equipment and making digging almost impossible. It may have slowed their progress, but never entirely halted it. In spite of the setback, Eleanor kept her promise, which was all Vivian cared about.

"Hey, you can't help what Nature decides to do. She's a tricky bitch like that." Vivian slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. "I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have-"

Eleanor laughed. "I've heard worse, don't worry."

"I bet you have, and I've said it, too."

"Really? You don't strike me as the kind of person to say things like that."

"Only when I'm really stressed or upset. I don't usually make casual swears unless I'm around friends or family." Vivian busied herself with wiping a fleck of dust off the mirror.

"So that makes me a friend, then? Sweet!"

Vivian snorted. "Okay, _that _I didn't expect!"

Eleanor shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I have to maintain my professional appearance when I'm at work, and to do that, I have to squelch the more perky aspects of my personality. I don't like doing it, but that's the way it is."

"Ain't that the truth?" Vivian muttered in agreement. "Seems like we have to lie to ourselves to make everyone else happy and satisfy their expectations. Makes me wonder what the chief medic is repressing. Maybe even the commander. God, I can't imagine what _he_ has to hold back."

"Doc doesn't hold anything back," Eleanor said. "If he thinks you're doing something wrong or that there's a better way to do it, he'll tell you. You may not like how he tells you, but he'll tell you. The commander, though . . ." She slipped her hands into her pockets, leaving a smudge of sand on her black suit jacket. "I'm going to be honest here; I'm worried about him. I've known him for a long time, not as long as some, but still, quite a few years. And in all that time, I've never seen him angry. I've heard stories about what happens when he is, and he just . . . _explodes_." She splayed her fingers to simulate a sudden blast. "But that's only happened twice, I think, and it took _a lot_ to get him to that point."

"Like what? What happened?"

"He never said, and I doubt he ever will." Eleanor glanced around the restroom. "I keep waiting for the day when he fries a circuit and goes ballistic on Galloway. I'm surprised people haven't started taking bets yet."

"Wait, when he does what?"

The woman snapped her gaze back to Vivian. "What?"

"You said something about 'frying a circuit'. I know what you mean, but I've never heard that expression before. Is that new?"

Eleanor coughed into her fist, but her flitting eyes betrayed her shock. "Yeah, it is," she said after a few moments. "I spend a lot of time in the tech department at N.E.S.T. I guess the jargon wore off on me. That reminds me! I need to be in a meeting in half an hour, but I'll see you later, alright?"

With her abrupt announcement completed, she turned and marched out, her heels clacking against the cement floor. She could not be sure, but Vivian thought she saw the woman's hand trembling in her pocket.

Aside from the addition of the new bathrooms, the day passed without incident. Vivian completed her weekly inventory and emailed it to Doc, as she now called him, though not directly. Once she received the notification that the report made it safely to his inbox, she locked up the trailer and headed straight for the cafeteria. Half an hour later, she was still sitting in the corner, sipping her Coke in her bright yellow scrubs while others around her were chatting about their day.

The cafeteria could seat forty people comfortably, fifty-five if they wanted to make the fire marshal sweat. Along with the standard rectangular tables lined in the middle of the room, there were small booths installed on its outer edges for those who wanted some privacy. Today, Vivian was one of those people. She picked over what was supposed to have been beef stroganoff and stared out the window at the sweat-drenched workers stepping off the tram after a long day. For reasons she could not understand, probably related to security, N.E.S.T. would not allow civilians to drive themselves to work. Instead, a tram shuttled them back and forth from their jobs. In case of an emergency, they had to call security and ask for a car. Major Lennox sent Vivian an email two days ago saying she would be designated her own car so she could drive to a patient if they could not come to her. He gave no indication as to when it would arrive, so she doubted she would see it anytime soon.

"What's so interesting out there, anyway?"

Vivian jumped, nearly choking on her bite of green beans. "What the-?!" she spluttered and looked up to see who interrupted her musings.

A whimsical Kate beamed down at her. "Sorry about that!" she laughed. "Mind if I join you in solitary confinement?"

The nurse waved her into the booth. "Be my guest."

Kate slid into the empty seat in front of her and settled in with a sigh. "So," she said, "you never answered my question."

Vivian knit her brow. "About what?"

"What you were looking at. I called your name a couple of times when I came in, but you didn't say anything. You just stared off into space. Where did you go?"

"I don't know, but if I didn't hear you, it must have been a pretty damn good place." Vivian stopped to look at her. "Speaking of going places, where the heck have you been?"

It was not until now that she noticed Kate's strange attire. Instead of the usual business suit, her friend wore a bright purple sports bra with black straps. Her sun-kissed skin glistened with a slick sheen of sweat; she must have just ended her workout.

"Oh, you know, training," Kate said, leaning back in her seat. "I've been doing a lot of aerobics, a lot of jogging. I'm thinking about picking up Pilates too, when I have the chance. What do you think?"

Vivian's legs started cramping at the mere thought of it. "I'm okay with it. Just make sure you don't overdo it, alright? Overtraining suppresses your immune system, which makes it harder for your body to fight off cold viruses and the like. It can also increase your risk for injuries, so-"

"She asked for advice, woman, not a lecture. If I wanted to nod off to a dissertation about human physiology, I'd just go to Doc."

Vivian and Kate shifted in their seats to find the source of the snide remark. A tall woman with an athletic build sauntered over to them, her black hair flowing loose from her ponytail. She wore a neon blue sports bra with jogging shorts and shoes to match. Once she reached the booth, she frowned at them under a pair of neatly plucked eyebrows, her dark eyes aiming a withering look of disdain directly at the nurse.

Kate was quick to rebuke her. "Susan, don't be rude!"

"What? I'm just saying that longwinded speeches won't get her anywhere." The woman now known as 'Susan' turned to Vivian with a beauty pageant grin. "Leave those to the professionals, okay, sweetie?"

Vivian was trying her utmost to keep from snapping her fork in half. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to know you?"

"The name's Susan. And you are?"

"Miss Bennett."

"Oh, no first name? How tragic. Now, what is it that you do?"

"I'm the civilian nurse."

"Are you?" Susan glanced over to Kate, who glared up at her from where she sat. "I thought we had enough medical staff. I wasn't aware that we were undermanned."

"N.E.S.T. requires that resident military and civilians need to be separate," Kate said with the confidence of an official. "This applies to medical care as well. There's no need to be smart-mouthed, Susan. You already know all this."

"I know. I just want to make sure Miss Bennett does."

"I'm fully aware of my responsibilities and my role in this community, thank you," Vivian told her. "Doc briefed me already; I didn't know it was so he could spare you the trouble."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kate fidgeting nervously. The gauntlet had been thrown down and Vivian had just snatched it up.

A leering smile crept across Susan's lips. "Well, I'm glad to see he's doing his job. How about you?"

"I'm here to ensure the health of everyone here," Vivian said. "If they're sick, they come to me. If they're injured, they come to me. If they're sick or injured and aren't sure how serious it is, they come to me. It's all common sense, honey, and from what I've seen so far, you don't have much of it."

She sat back and looked over at Kate, whose jaw had fallen slack. "It's okay. I stepped off the soapbox."

"Good," Susan mumbled. "I about fell asleep waiting for you to shut up."

"What the hell is your problem?!"

A heavy thud against the window sent Vivian and Kate screaming out of the booth. During the argument, one of the workers outside had sneaked up on them and was currently making faces in the glass, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out with all the gusto of a fourth-grade boy. A few heads rose up to find out what was going on, but the majority of the diners ignored the commotion, too intent on eating to care.

It took Vivian only a few seconds to recognize the man's black hair and green eyes beneath the sweat and grime.

"CHRIS!"

Forgetting all about Susan, Vivian raced out the door to greet her brother. He grabbed her just as she rushed outside to find him, holding her tight around the waist.

"Hey there, squirt! Long time no see!"

"You dumbass!" she yelled, grinning all the while. "I haven't seen you since the first night! Where've they been hiding you?"

A quick inspection of his person attested that he had been hard at work. His whole body was coated in a fine layer of sand that clung to his shirt, jeans and boots like a second skin, wafting off in pale puffs with every movement.

And now, thanks to the hug, she was covered in it too.

_Oh well. It's about time to do the laundry, anyway._

"I've been busy, squirt. It's been 'go to work, come back, eat, pass out, wake up, go to work' for the past week or so. Not much time to talk."

Hours in the hot sun baked the sand on his skin, forming a whitish gritty crust on his arms and face. Vivian reached up to dust off his forehead, where tiny grains lodged in the creases threatened to trickle down into his eyes.

"I hope you're getting paid overtime for that," she said. "Have you had to sleep there overnight?"

"Hey, Viv?"

She peeked around her brother to spot Kate and Susan standing side by side on the sidewalk. "We're heading on out," the blonde said, adjusting the hem of her purple shorts. "If you ever want to come jogging with me, you're more than welcome. Just hit me up if you do, okay?"

"Sure! I'll catch you later, then."

"Later is preferable," Susan mumbled.

The blonde rounded on her. "Susan, we're _leaving_. _Now._" She spoke with a fierce tone Vivian had never heard before. It stood in complete contrast to the lively and spirited woman she knew, a glimpse of the other side of the coin known as "Kate".

Susan, just as alarmed by the sudden change in her companion, promptly strode after her towards the main road.

But not before giving Chris a thorough once-over first.

Vivian stepped in front of her brother as if to shield him from her gaze._ Don't you dare think you can insult me and then start ogling my brother's ass, you harpy!_

"What was that all about?" Chris asked, utterly clueless.

"Don't know, don't care," she lied. "Come on; let's go inside where there's air conditioning. I'm sweating buckets out here." She grabbed his hand and started dragging him back into the cafeteria. He followed without hesitation.

Once he sank into the booth with his tray of food, he started grilling her for details. "Spill it, Viv. Who were they? Your posse?"

"God no! Are you kidding? I've never had a posse before in my life, and even if I did, it wouldn't include that smartass twiglet!"

"You mean Susan? I don't know; she seemed fine to me."

Vivian gulped down more of her Coke. "You only think she's 'fine' because she has boobs."

"That's not true!"

"Good. I'm glad you think that."

"She's got an ass too."

He ducked to avoid the balled-up paper napkin she chucked at his head. It bounced harmlessly off his hair onto the table.

"And you wonder why I call you 'dumbass'," Vivian said.

"Oh, I don't wonder. I know! But right now, squirt, I want to know everything you've been up to."

While he ate what passed for food, she gave him a brief summary of what happened since he left her at the house during the monsoon. He listened, never taking his eyes away from her and nodding when it seemed appropriate. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he was genuinely paying attention or just pretending to give a damn, but as far as she could tell, what she said mattered.

"Doc kind of sounds like an asshole," Chris commented, then slurped a noodle off his fork.

"'Kind of'? He's anal about making sure everything's precise," she said. "Then again, when it comes to health and supplies, there's no such thing as being _too_ anal."

"Maybe. Just make sure he doesn't push you around too much, okay? There's a difference between being a boss and being a bully, and I don't want to be the guy to spell it out for him if he doesn't."

Despite her assurances that she could handle herself, Chris never quite overcame the irrepressible urge to protect his younger sister. The numerous bruises, scrapes and black eyes the neighborhood bullies sustained at his hands were evidence enough. Even in their adult years, he still felt compelled to guard her, regardless that neither lived under the same roof anymore. If she mentioned in a phone call or email that someone was pestering her, he would inevitably ask, "Do I need to come over and beat them up, or have you got this?" She always insisted that she was fine and they would laugh it off, but part of her worried that he was taking his fraternal role a stretch too far. He rarely strayed beyond threats, but the potential for aggression was there. Testosterone and protectiveness made a volatile mix.

"No need to pull out your fists yet, Rambo," Vivian said with a smirk. "Doc's just doing his job; he didn't get to where he is now by being wishy-washy. And he's got a boss, too, you know. He answers to the commander, and I'm sure Doc doesn't want to piss him off right now. He's got enough on his plate as it is; employee harassment reports would only complicate things."

Chris's eyes widened. "S—t! I knew I forgot something!"

"What?"

"I was going to submit a request to be switched over to night shift and I totally forgot. Dammit!" He slid a hand over his eyes, rubbing his temples to ward off the oncoming headache.

Vivian gave him a blank stare. "How did you get that from 'employee harassment'?"

"I got this image of papers on desks while you were talking. It's how my brain works."

"And what a bizarre brain it is."

"Not helping, sis!" Chris shot her an annoyed glare through his fingers.

"Okay, okay, calm down," she said, realizing now that this was truly important. "Let's think about this rationally, alright? Was today the deadline?"

Chris breathed a deep sigh to settle his nerves. "No, there isn't one. I just wanted to get it done so I wouldn't have to worry about it." He dropped his hand back down on the table with a thud. "S—t. Now I've probably missed my chance."

Vivian pondered over this new piece of information. Health-wise, it would be sensible for Chris to work at night. It would be marginally cooler then, a balmy 82 degrees compared to the sweltering 86. Nothing could be done about the humidity, but without the sun's harsh light, working conditions would be less stifling and, possibly, refreshing to an extent. In addition, sunburns would no longer be an issue, and the risk of dehydration less so. All in all, changing to night shift appeared to be a logically sound idea.

Too bad Chris was not the logical type. He probably never considered any of that.

"Why do you want to work nights?" she asked, wondering what his reasons might be.

He leaned in close, his eyes gleaming with sparks of excitement. She followed suit and waited for him to speak.

Chris barely spoke above a whisper. "I'm usually here early in the morning so I can get a good seat on the tram, so I'm here when it drops off the night shift workers. Now, they get off pretty quick so they can get inside and eat, but most of the time, they're talking while they're going in. Viv, you won't believe what I've been hearing."

Now she was intrigued. If they shared anything it common, it was their mutual love for a good mystery. "What are they saying?"

"I've only heard bits and pieces, but there's something strange going on at N.E.S.T. It's all centered around those hangars we've been building for them. Workers have been hearing voices having full-blown conversations in them, even though they're locked up and there's no one inside. There's also these loud noises like metal shifting, or clanking, or grinding . . ." Chris rubbed his hands together to illustrate his point. "Or something like that. I don't really know how else to describe it, but that's what people have been saying so far."

Vivian chewed on her lower lip while she deliberated over her next choice of words. "And why do you want to work nights, again?"

"Because I want to find out what the hell's going on over there."

"I see."

A tense silence settled over their dinner conversation. Vivian picked up her fork and prodded a leftover green bean around her tray, toying with the idea of eating it.

After a minute or two, Chris ventured to break the tense quiet. "Well?"

"'Well' what?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I know what's happening on base."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You do?"

She set her fork down and looked straight into his face with the most solemn expression she could muster. "Yes. The hangars have clearly been built over an ancient mechanic burial ground and you need to call a priest."

"Come on, Viv!" he snapped. "I'm trying to be serious for once, and you're being sarcastic about it!"

Vivian smothered a guffaw in her napkin in a vain effort to regain whatever meager sense of self-control she still possessed. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she said, "but seriously. Disembodied voices? I can understand metal scraping since there's constant construction over there, but not those."

"Yeah! Now you see why I have to do this? I've got to find out what's going on!"

"Hon," she sighed, exasperated by her brother's thickheadedness. "For once, think through what you're doing before you jump headlong into it. Some of the workers claimed to hear people talking in the empty hangars even though they were shut, right? How did they know they were empty in the first place? Did they see anyone come out?"

Chris dropped his gaze down to the table, drumming his fingers while he gave her questions some thought. "Well, no. Not that I know of. They mentioned armed guards standing outside, but other than that-"

"There you go, then. N.E.S.T. is working on something in the hangars and they don't want civilians poking around with military business. The laborers are the ones talking and the metal scraping sounds are just more construction noises. Mystery solved."

He flicked his green eyes up at her, their glimmering eagerness extinguished. "So you really think there's nothing there, huh?"

"I'm not saying it's nothing," she said, trying to cheer him up. "They could be building armored weather balloons, for all we know. All I'm doing is looking out for you. I don't want you running around and poking your nose where N.E.S.T. doesn't want it because of some rumor. It could get you into a confrontation with those armed guards you mentioned or worse, and God knows what'll happen to you then."

He scoffed at that. "What's worse than armed guards, sis?"

"You're missing the point here!" Vivian hissed. "I'm terrified that Doc will one day send me an updated civilian medical file and I'll find your name on it! I don't want you getting injured or dying over something stupid!"

Chris may have been the jokester in the family, but he still recognized when his antics strayed into unacceptable territory. He switched tactics and spoke in hushed tones, trying to calm her nerves. "Viv, if it worries you that much, I won't do it. All that stuff's hearsay, anyway, and I don't mind working during the day. It's hot as hell, but I'd rather sweat than claw myself to shreds scratching mosquito bites anytime."

His words had an instant effect. Every muscle in her body relaxed, and her heartbeat slowed to a steady pace. "My blood pressure and I thank you," she said.

Chris shrugged. "It's what I do. I've got to look after my sis."

Vivian dodged his attempt to ruffle her hair. "You don't need to worry so much about me anymore. I'm a grown-ass woman. Just keep focusing on the brawn, and I'll fret over the brains like always. Sound like a plan?"

He grinned at her, slouching back against the plastic cushion. "It's the only one we've had that's worked over the last twenty-something years. I'm not about to wreck that."

"Good!" She slipped out of the booth and picked up her tray. "You know where to find me if you need anything, right?"

Chris's eyes gave off a mischievous twinkle. "Why, yes," he said in a low, pseudo-menacing growl. "After all, I know where you live." He arched an eyebrow and paired it with a sidelong glance, an attempt to emulate the devious air of a conniving villain.

Judging by his sister's ensuing giggling fit, it was a miserable failure.

* * *

A hot shower and a fresh change of clothes further improved Vivian's mood. After slipping into a tank top and a pair of pajama shorts, she flopped down on the couch to read her romance novel. She kept her phone in her pocket in case someone tried to contact her, but aside from that, she had disconnected herself from the rest of the minute world that was Diego Garcia.

Ten minutes later, she was still on the same page reading the same sex scene. Her mind decided against her will to occupy itself with other tasks, mainly those surrounding work. Had she checked on the number of boxes of bandages left? Did she enter it into the inventory form correctly? If not, how would Doc know if she made a mistake at all? Did he drive over and check the numbers himself, or did he just compare past inventories? If there was an error, what would happen? And what about Susan? Why did Susan have to belittle her like that? Did she hate her? Was she genuinely interested in Chris? Would Chris apply to work night shift in spite of what she said? Maybe she ought to go over and check on—

"SHUT UP!"

Vivian hurled the book to the floor and cradled her head in her hands, as if their grip could stem the surge of apprehensive thoughts. Unless she found some way to soothe her anxious mind, it would plague her into exhaustion. She sat there quietly, praying that a solution would spontaneously pop into her head.

That was when she heard it: Over the steady thrum of the air conditioner, the gentle roar of the waves rolling into shore.

"Meh. Why not?"

Abandoning her book, she heaved herself off the couch, slipped into her favorite pair of sandals, snatched up her keys and dashed out the door.

A hasty scan of the area showed no signs of coconut crabs. Vivian hoped that her presence outside might deter them from setting foot, or claw, on her property. She locked the door behind her and hopped down the steps into the sand.

"I guess it would have been too much trouble to install a back door," she mumbled as she hiked around her house in the dark. "A porch would be nice, but eh. Details, details."

The beach was farther away than she realized. It took her a good five minutes to tramp down the gentle slope from her front door to the shoreline.

"Huh. And here I thought I had beachfront property."

The clamorous noise of humanity had subsided after sunset; any other manmade sounds were drowned out by the wind and sea. A crescent moon cast a pearly glow over the water, its reflection shattering in the waves like glass. The cool ocean breeze tugged at her hair, whipping any errant strands into her eyes, forcing her to repeatedly brush them back, but it was hardly an annoyance. Temptation pleaded her to take off her sandals and dip her feet into the water, and had Vivian not showered already, she would have obliged.

Vivian peered further up the beach towards the northern section of the island, where N.E.S.T. was situated. The base itself was located further inland, several miles away from the civilian community, but the stark blaze of work-lights showed it to be a thriving locale bustling with activity.

They also revealed the early stages of N.E.S.T.'s coastal defensive measures. Faint flickers of light from the construction site dappled over what she guessed was a watchtower standing on the beach. Pieces of metal jutted out here and there over its massive frame; like everything else on base, it was under construction. Pale blue lights beamed out far across the water, searching the horizon for ships, friendly or otherwise.

A shade of guilt crept into Vivian's thoughts. Was she even supposed to be out here? No one, not even the military officials who briefed her, said a word regarding whether or not she could visit the beach at night. They would most likely frown upon the act rather than forbid it if she asked, but there had to be a limit as to how far she could walk before N.E.S.T. arrested her for trespassing on government property. She had absolutely no intention of walking onto base; armed personnel patrolled the area, as Chris told her earlier, and the flat terrain would betray her position as easily as a scream. N.E.S.T. safeguarded its secrets, which meant doing everything necessary to keep prying eyes from scoping out the premises.

Try as she might, though, she could not shake the impression that whatever she was observing on the beach was not meant to be seen at all.

The vibrating phone in her pocket served as a viable interruption. She pulled it out and checked the screen:

LENNOX, MAJ. WILLIAM

She hurriedly accepted the call. "Hello?"

"Miss Bennett! How are you tonight?'

"I'm managing just fine, Major. How are you?"

"Not too bad, ma'am. I've got an update for you on the car situation."

"Oh, good! I want to hear all about it!" She headed back to the house, eager for news.

Five seconds later, the watchtower turned and strode inland towards the base.

* * *

Please feel free to drop a review! Constructive criticism is always appreciated (yes, I will probably repeat that incessantly).

I will be issuing thank you's in time for the next chapter. I haven't forgotten you, I promise! :-)


	4. Conspiracies and Curses

Hello everyone! I have survived the treacherous turmoil of existence and bring you a new chapter! But first, there are a few readers I need to thank, as well as respond to reviews (if you'd rather I respond via private message, please let me know!):

CountryDream14, Lerrinus, USSTalos, Hannah Michaelis, Sauren's Sister, LCDRFireFly, FreezingTime92, Lustrous Laniformes, linguisticRenegade, SeerFlight1011, Alc Fluteo, and Bliss123: Thank you for adding "Home Away From Home" to your Story Alert lists!

CountryDream14, Axil 2.0, USSTalos, LCDRFireFly, yellowcardgirl13, Lustrous Laniformes, linguisticRenegade, and Bliss123: Thank you for listing "Home Away From Home" as a Favorite!

USSTalos and Lustrous Laniformes: Thank you for adding me to your Author Alerts!

Sunstreaker's Squishy: I'm thrilled that you're enjoying it thus far! This chapter is slightly shorter than the others, but hopefully the following events will make up for it.

Elhini Prime: I know, but that'd be telling. :-P

I am a Band Nerd: I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about the story, and I'm far from giving up on it. Don't you worry!

KeepingThemAtBay: Or was he? Haha! Thanks for the thumbs up!

heavenslilagl420: Thank you!

Cloud-Dancer103: Be anxious no more! :-D

USSTalos: All in good time, my dear. *gives a scheming grin*

And now . . . the next chapter! Onwards!

* * *

"TWO WEEKS! Another TWO WEEKS before I can finally get that freakin' car! I should've known there'd be another hitch!"

"Would you mind saying that a little louder? I don't think everyone in China could hear you."

Vivian glowered at her brother across the table. "I don't care if I'm causing avalanches in Switzerland! I'm pissed, and I've been holding this in all day. Actually, scratch that. All day and all last night."

It has been said that people can recognize when someone smiles on the phone. Their voice has a more cheery quality, which is passed on to the listener the moment they hear it. Major Lennox must have been sporting an ear-splitting grin, because the news he gave her the night before was far from cheerful.

"'It'll be two weeks while it undergoes extensive repairs.' What the hell happened to it? Did it go through a shredder? Get hit by a truck? Why would it take two weeks to fix a car?!"

"Maybe there's a backlog or something, I don't know. At least they're trying, sis."

"And the car's condition. What about that? If it's going to take that long to repair it, then it was probably a crap car to begin with. How do I even know if it's reliable? I'm not asking for any fancy gizmos; I just need something to get me from Point A to Point B. I need it to start and go; that's it."

Chris twirled his fork into the pile of spaghetti on his tray. "You couldn't talk to your posse about it?"

"Kate and Eleanor are not my posse," she said. "And no, I couldn't. They're all busy with N.E.S.T. crap; they don't have time for mine."

"Wait, is it 'is not my posse' or 'are not'?"

"Are you even listening to me?!"

Chris set his fork down. "Yes, I am, Viv, but I don't know what you expect me to do. I can't exactly walk up to the major and say, 'Hey, my sister's pissed that she doesn't have a car. Could you hurry it up, please?' He'd probably throw me out on my ass if I did."

"I'm not saying you should do anything. I need someone to vent to, and you're it."

"You couldn't talk about it with any of your patients?"

"Nope. No one came in. I saved it just for you." She grinned at him.

Chris shook his head and smiled, taking the tease in stride. "Oh joy. Just what I've always wanted."

"Call it an early Christmas present. Or would it be belated now?"

A dull roar from overhead drowned out all conversations in the cafeteria. Vivian joined the others who craned their necks for a better view of what was happening outside, even though the source was far out of sight.

"Another plane?" she asked. "What's with all these planes taking off? They've been doing that all afternoon."

"No idea," Chris said while he sliced a meatball in half. "I've got my theories, though."

"Along with everyone else, I'm sure."

Her brother went on, either ignoring her sarcasm or missing it completely. "One of my friends who works nights said he saw a bunch of cars being driven onto one of those planes."

"And they were driving themselves!" Vivian said in a quivery voice, followed by what was intended to be a ghostly moan but turned out more like a bad sound effect for a haunted house.

Chris had spent over twenty years of his life coping with his sister's sardonic sense of humor. He knew better than to criticize it. "No, he could see the drivers, but once the cars were parked inside, no one came back out."

"They were probably the soldiers who owned them or were in charge of them, however that works."

"Yeah, but here's where it starts getting weird. You see, what you said would make sense if they were soldiers. None of them were in uniform. There was one guy driving a black pickup who was wearing leather! He looked like he just walked out of a biker bar!"

Once again, Vivian tried to find a rational explanation. "Maybe they're soldiers who are going undercover. I'm surprised your friend was able to get close enough to look." She picked up her glass of orange soda and took a sip.

Chris acquiesced with a shrug. "You've got a point there, but I'd think you'd have high chances of getting your cover blown if you've got flames all over your car."

Vivian choked on her swallow of soda. "Flames? You've got to be friggin' kidding me! Which one?"

"Remember that semi you saw the first night?"

"They stowed that thing on the plane?" Vivian sighed through her nose. "They can't be going undercover, then. A semi's way too obvious. It's too big to ignore, not to mention the paint job makes it a little conspicuous. I know flames are supposed to be cool and masculine and all that s—t, but it's not exactly covert ops when your car practically screams, 'Hey! Look at me! I'm a moving target! Shoot me, why don't ya?'"

"Dad used to have a motorcycle painted to look like it was on fire."

"Yeah, but he was trying to impress his college buddies. He wanted to turn heads. If you're trying to stay hidden, you don't choose a disguise that draws attention to yourself. You find something more subdued and discreet. It's hard to soak in all the admirations for an over-glorified paint job if it ends up killing you." She picked up her fork to resume eating.

"So you're thinking they're building again, huh?"

"What else could it be?" she asked. "N.E.S.T. is a military organization, so it's logical for it to have multiple bases around the world. They'll need vehicles like semis and pickups to transport heavy loads like they're doing here, so yes, there's probably construction going on elsewhere."

"WRONG!" Chris yelled and jabbed an emphatic finger in her face.

Vivian was not impressed with his antics. "Do you mind? I'm trying to eat, here."

Her brother continued unabated. "Your theory would make sense, except for the fact that a bunch of sports cars were loaded onto the planes too. Mustangs, Corvettes, you name it, they had it. But here's the thing: Not only are they against military regulations, they don't have the tonnage to carry building supplies. How could they possibly help?"

"Maybe they're carrying people."

"Ah, but that kind of goes along with what you were saying earlier about the painted-on flames. Sports cars exist to impress people. They're sleek, fast, and the engines roar when you slam on the gas. In other words, they're like fashion models: Pretty, but impractical. With that being said, who exactly is N.E.S.T trying to impress?"

"And on a construction site, no less." Vivian flicked a joking glance at Chris. "Yes, I know that rhymed."

"Dammit! You beat me to it!"

"Ha! You did it again!"

"GAH!"

Vivian burst into an explosive guffaw. She loved to tease him not only because it was a jovial retaliation for a lifetime of pestering, but also because it was so easy to rile him up. One or two taunts was all it took to aggravate him. A few long minutes later, Vivian had regained some trace of self-control with a minor case of the giggles. Her cheeks ached from the vain effort to stifle them.

Chris drummed his fingers on the table. His patience was dwindling fast. "You done yet?"

"Yeah," she coughed through another giggle. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"Nope. Your turn now, squirt."

"To what?"

"To come up with an idea explaining what the hell's going on."

Vivian ran her fingers through her hair and sighed, gazing out the window as if the answers were written on the glass. Chris harbored a love for all things intriguing, ranging from Sherlock Holmes mysteries to government schemes. As a child, he kept a collection of books and magazines discussing all manner of conspiracy theories stowed under his bed. She was certain that he still hid them somewhere in his apartment, but much like his obsession, the facts regarding their whereabouts were elusive. However, these supposedly despicable plots all shared one trait in common: None of them were real, and this apparent scheme N.E.S.T. had set in motion was no exception. The only hurdle in her path now was to convince him of this.

"You ever heard of 'Occam's Razor'?" she asked.

Chris narrowed his eyes. "No. Is that like Gillette or something?"

She struggled to suppress the urge to sock him in the face. "No!" she said with an annoyed edge to her tone. "It's a logical principle that says that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one."

"So, what are you getting at?"

"I'm saying that there's a reason for what N.E.S.T. is doing that is more straightforward and clear-cut than you're thinking. You keep looking for a ploy or dastardly scandal that just isn't there. Yes, what they're doing right now is weird by our standards, but just because they won't tell us doesn't make it a conspiracy. They're entitled to privacy just as much as we are; everyone has their secrets."

Chris poked at a half-eaten meatball with a tine of his fork. "It wouldn't be the first time they've kept secrets from us," he mumbled.

"It's for our own good," she assured him. "If there's anything we need to know, I'm sure they'll tell us."

"I wouldn't count on it." Before she could respond, he snatched up his tray and marched off in a huff, leaving her alone and baffled.

Not even the sound of the ocean could lull her to sleep.

Vivian found herself staring at the clock again, a monotonous pastime for any insomniac.

2:44 A.M.

She thought about reading a book or watching television, but promptly tossed those suggestions out. Both of those activities would stimulate her brain, making sleep an even less likely possibility. Her mind was already hard at work using subtraction to find out how many hours she had left before it was time to start a new day.

"Less than five. Fantastic."

Chris's blustery reaction to her opinions on N.E.S.T.'s methods worried her more than usual. He often acted this way when she, or anyone else, disagreed with him, especially when it came to his beliefs. However, he normally offered an ear to consider the opposing argument, or debated it to death. This time, he chose to do neither. He had heard her opinion, but never truly listened to it.

Vivian grabbed her pillow, flipped it over to the cool side and lay her head back down on it. Chris demanded honesty in any relationship, but he never appreciated those who gave it to him. She had offered him a dose of reality, and he rejected it. If he wanted to keep living in his world of intrigue and sedition, then he was more than welcome to it, but he would find himself very much alone there.

A loud buzzing from nearby forced her to sit up in search of the noise. Her phone shimmied around on her dresser as it vibrated, its screen casting a vivid white glow on the ceiling.

Vivian sprang out of bed and grabbed it. Maybe Chris was calling or texting to apologize, or at least explain himself.

"Com 2 c ll c3nt3r. I n33ed yu. – Hannah Stokowski"

Or not.

"Come on, Hannah. I know it's 3 a.m., but that's no excuse to butcher the English language!" she muttered as she shoved her phone and keys into a pocket in her pajama shorts. With that done, she knelt down on the floor and shoved her hands under the bed, scrabbling around for one box amongst several. Finally, after much grumbling, Vivian jerked out a plastic container the size of a shoebox, its green lid inscribed with the words "Emerg. Kit" in duct tape and permanent black marker.

For urgent medical cases outside the trailer, Vivian had put together an emergency health kit containing any supplies that could be easily carried offsite, ranging from thermometers and tongue depressors to bandages and Bactine. She crammed the box under her arm, eager to set off. After slipping her feet into a pair of flip-flops, Vivian hurried outside, locked up the house and made her way to the gravel road, using her phone as a guide-light.

_This had better be a genuine health issue, _she thought to herself, wiping away minute beads of sweat already welling up on her forehead._ I'll be pissed if it's a prank text! Is there such a thing as prank texts nowadays?_

The noise of civilization had ceased for the night, but that by no means implied silence. Last night, waves and wind filled the auditory void, but now that she was further inland, a whole new cacophony of sounds greeted her ears. The sea breeze that tousled her hair failed to dispel the buzz and whirr of insects swarming in the dank jungles. Sometimes a chirrup of another animal interrupted the main chorus for a brief solo. The dense tangle of trees and vegetation flourished a couple of miles south of the civilian community, but in the darkness, distance no longer mattered. Every breath, every movement resonated with the calls of the jungle. To Vivian, it was as if the wildlife were reminding the human squatters that their presence on Diego Garcia was tolerated, but not wholly welcomed. She hurried on to the call center, keen on uncovering the truth behind the text and making it home early enough to catch some sleep, or at least take another shower.

The sweat-sheened nurse soon arrived at the call center with a brusque shove of the door. "There'd better be a damn good reason for texting me at three in the morning!"

She quickly realized there was. A woman in an orange blouse sat doubled over in her chair, clutching her stomach with one hand while holding a phone in the other. Her dark hair had been plaited into a thick braid flowing down her back, but now was not the time to appraise her sense of style.

"Oh God! Hannah, what's wrong?!"

The secretary squinted up at her. "You the nurse, yeah?"

Just speaking was a draining task. Her face lost all color, becoming nearly as pallid as the copier paper stacked on the desk.

Vivian rushed over to Hannah and set her emergency kit down by the computer. "I am. Now tell me what's wrong."

While the woman explained her symptoms, Vivian set about with a preliminary examination.

"Well, I was feeling fine until a couple of hours ago, when my stomach started cramping, right?"

_A little cool to the touch; eyes are clear. No fever. That's good._

"At first I thought it would go away on its own, you know, but it just got worse and worse." Hannah winced and hissed through her teeth. "Feels like someone's stabbing my gut!"

_Onset was gradual. Could be heartburn. Or maybe a virus. Please God, don't let it be a virus!_

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" Vivian asked. "Are you feeling any burning sensations in your stomach, or have this really bitter taste in your mouth?"

"No, but I-"

A loud belch cut her short. Hannah's white face rapidly darkened to a gray-green hue, the color of an old bruise.

Vivian had treated enough sick children to know what was coming up next.

"BATHROOM! NOW!"

Without another word, the secretary scrambled into the bathroom right behind her. She barely made it in time. Seconds later, a hoarse cough and subsequent splash echoed through the door.

Vivian covered her ears. She had seen many children who were sick to their stomachs, but that in no way insinuated she was desensitized to vomit. Even the sound of Hannah retching a few paces away made her insides churn. Still, Hannah was her patient and therefore her responsibility. She needed to provide the best care available; her failure to do so would undoubtedly give Doc the inspiration to invent and utilize an automobile variant of being hanged, drawn and quartered.

There had been no heaving or gagging noises for a while now. Time to check on the poor woman.

Vivian paused outside the bathroom door and gave a hesitant knock. "Hannah?"

Nothing.

"Hannah, can I come in?"

Still nothing.

Vivian viewed her lack of response as probable cause to enter. She timidly pushed the door open, fearful of what she might find.

Three stalls lined the right-hand side of the bathroom. The floor was still as pristine as before, verifying that Hannah successfully reached the comparative refuge of a toilet. Vivian tried to find her patient via the mirror hanging on the opposite wall.

The reflection displayed Hannah's slim figure hunched over the commode in the middle stall. She gripped each side of the bowl as if she were clinging to a cliff-side, desperate to hang on for fear that she would fall. Nothing over her shoulders was visible.

Vivian called out cautiously. "I know this seems like a stupid question, but are you feeling any better?"

She watched as Hannah slowly eased herself upright, keeping herself angled over the toilet. "I'm not puking my guts up anymore," she replied, her voice hollow due to the ceramic, "but I'm not enjoying the reunion with my spaghetti. Oh God, there's a whole meatball in there!"

"Do you still feel sick?" Vivian ripped a paper towel out of the dispenser, folded it and soaked it in cool water from the sink.

Hannah took a while to answer. "I don't think so, but I'm not moving. I don't want to go anywhere and find out I'm wrong."

"Good idea. Better safe than sorry." Vivian turned off the faucet and stepped into the stall behind her. "This'll be a little chilly, just to warn you."

"What're you doing?"

"I'm putting this wet paper towel on the back of your neck. It'll help with the nausea." Vivian pulled the secretary's braid aside at the nape, then slipped the sodden paper towel under it.

"Will it help with the whole barfing bit?" Hannah lurched forward as she dry heaved into the toilet.

"Well, no. There are medications that can do that, but they're mainly for treating motion sickness, side effects of opioid analgesics, anesthetics and chemotherapy, and morning sickness."

The secretary gulped some air before speaking. "So is there a way I can get one of those medications?"

"All I've got is Benadryl," Vivian said, "but that only treats nausea. What you're talking about is stored in the hospital miles away."

"Damn."

"Anyway, I don't think you need them. You're actively talking to me, a good sign that you're on the mend."

Hannah retched into the bowl again, but nothing came of it. "Gah, my ribs!" she winced.

"Your body's still trying to get rid of whatever's bothering you."

"It already has! I'm looking right at it!"

"It's just going through the motions at this point. Don't worry; the dry heaving will stop soon." Vivian backed away from the sick secretary. Before she stepped out of the stall entirely, the sight of Hannah lurching and gagging spurred her to speak again. "Did you have time to call a replacement? I don't want you answering phones and contaminating everything if you have a virus."

"Yeah, right before you got here," Hannah said, swallowing before she responded in full. "She said she'd get here when she could."

The lack of a specific time frame bothered Vivian, but there was nothing she could do to assuage it. "Okay, well, as long as she said she was coming. In the meantime, don't you move from that spot. I'm calling security to take you home."

Hannah let out a barking laugh, which abruptly evolved into a more foreboding gurgle that forced her head back down into the toilet.

Vivian walked out of the bathroom perplexed at the secretary's reaction. Obviously there was some vital detail she either failed to grasp or was just too naïve to understand. Whatever the reason, it would have to wait. Right now, she needed to arrange a ride for Hannah.

She plopped down in the chair and spun around to face the desk. The thought occurred to her that maybe she ought to use her smartphone, but one look at the flashing orange line on the battery icon changed all that.

"Looks like back to Plan A," she muttered, slipping the now useless piece of technology back into her pocket.

Vivian picked up the desk phone, an outdated clunky black device that would be more suitable as a decoration or possible bludgeon, and rummaged around for a phone book. Thankfully, the search took moments. A directory chart with all the extension numbers to various offices and chief individuals had been taped onto the desk. She rapidly dialed for "SECURITY". The sooner Hannah was back in the seclusion of her bed and bathroom, the better off she, and everyone else in contact with her, would fare.

Ten rings later, and still no one picked up.

"How're you holding up in there?" Vivian yelled back to the bathroom.

"I'm alive," came the muffled response. "Does that count?"

"Works for me. Just checking on you while I'm waiting for someone to answer the damn phone."

"You haven't got a human on the line yet?"

"Nope."

Hannah gave the same sardonic chuckle. "Figures. It'd probably be faster to walk over there."

"In the middle of the night with God knows what crawling around out there? I'll pass."

Finally, after what felt like centuries of ringtones, the line crackled. Someone had accepted her call.

_THANK GOD! Maybe I'll actually get the chance to talk to a real human being!_

Vivian was promptly blasted with sounds of combat. Explosive bursts of gunfire and men shouting barraged her ears. Discombobulated by the noise, she jerked the receiver away to prevent any permanent damage to her hearing.

"'N.E.S.T. Civilian Security'!" a young man's voice yelled over the racket.

She gingerly pressed the earpiece back to its rightful place and prayed this would not take long. "This is Vivian Bennett, N.E.S.T. civilian nurse. What the hell's going on out there? A war?!"

"Sort of!" he shouted. "What do you want?! I'm kind of in the middle of a crisis here!"

Vivian sat there for a second, listening to the raging battle. Strangely enough, the clamor seemed slightly stifled, as if it were taking place from a distance. "Actually, it sounds like you're nowhere near it."

"Whatever! Just tell me what you want!"

She glanced back at the bathroom, wondering if placing Hannah in the trust of this belligerent security guard was such a good idea. "The secretary at the call center is sick and needs a ride back to her apartment."

"What kind of sick are we talking here?"

"She threw up a little while ago, but she hasn't-"

"Oh NO! Hell no!" he yelled. "I'm not driving her around if she's going to be upchucking all over the place!"

"But she's not doing that anymore! That's what I was trying to say before you cut me off!"

"Don't care! Have you tried cleaning vomit out of your car's upholstery? It's beyond disgusting, not to mention expensive. I'm not having a chunk taken out of my paycheck just to scrub someone else's barf out of my carpet!"

Vivian had reached the crack between desperation and incredulity. "Look, I understand why you're reluctant to do this, and I would take her myself if I could, but I can't. I don't have a car yet, which is why I need you to do this. If it will make you feel any better, I'll give her a trash bag just in case she-"

"HEADSHOT!"

The realization crashed down on her with the suddenness of a tidal wave. " . . . Are you f-g joking?" she asked in a deadly whisper. "You're putting off doing your duty for a _video game_?!"

A strained silence passed between them. All sounds of soldiers and shooting ceased; the guard had paused his game. "Alright, look," he explained in weary resignation, "it's the middle of the night. You're tired, I'm tired. We're both on edge. Why don't we just take a moment to breathe and find our happy place or whatever?"

"I'd be much happier if you'd get over here and do your job!"

"I'll head over to the call center when I'm ready," he said with determined finality. "Right now, I'm about five headshots away from getting a sniper rifle that fires grenades. See you when I get there."

_Click._

An intense heat crept up the back of her neck, pooling to her ears and cheeks. Her free hand tightened into a fist, popping her knuckles up into pale bony knobs. With one swoop, she slammed the receiver back into its cradle, fairly certain she heard the plastic crack under the impact.

Vivian tried to take a deep soothing breath, but her body would have none of it. She sat in her chair stiff as a mannequin, with a nerve occasionally twitching as proof that she was in fact alive. She felt like a taut rubber band: One more pull, and she would snap. What she needed now was some time to be quiet, to settle down and let her surge of rage subside.

The phone rang once before she unleashed her wrath.

"Now listen, you rotten little son of a bitch," she snarled into the mouthpiece with all the malice she could muster, "I don't know who the hell you are or what lowlife scumhole you crawled from, but where I come from, you don't treat people like trash. I have a woman here who's sick and needs to go home. She can't help being sick; s-t happens. I'd take her if I could, but I can't, and I don't think she'd like the idea of me hauling her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. And you know what? Neither do I. So why don't you get off your f-g ass, shut off your g-n Call of Halo Duty Warfare or whatever and do your f-g job?!"

Silence. Then:

"Impressive, but unimaginative. You should meet my weapons specialist or one of his associates. They are so fluent in profanity that it ought to be considered its own language."

A chill swept over Vivian as the voice rumbled through her earpiece. This was not the security guard.

"I'm sorry, who is this?" she asked meekly, all her strength draining out of her. She could barely hear herself speak.

"This is your commander. I was checking the strength of the communications signal from the plane, and I believe I can say with confidence that I can hear you loud and clear."

Vivian could feel her self-esteem crumple like a wad of paper in an angry fist. She even found herself pulling her knees up to her chest, as if to shield what remained of her dignity.

The door creaking open behind her urged the nurse to peek around her chair. Hannah staggered out of the bathroom, her face a chalky gray. Exhausted from the effort, she propped herself against the doorframe and slid down to the floor, leaning heavily on her shoulder as she did so. Once she touched down, Hannah turned her attention back to Vivian and eyed her caretaker with puzzled concern.

"Hey, you okay? You look even whiter than me. Sicker, too."

Vivian gazed back at her, wide-eyed in shock.

"I just cussed out the commander."

* * *

Please feel free to drop a review, and as always, constructive criticism is appreciated! (This chapter is slightly shorter than the others, but I hope no one will mind.) See you next time!


	5. A Matter of Protocol

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the next chapter in "Home Away From Home"! This one gave me a little trouble (personally, I blame the commander), but it came along faster than usual, which is great for you folks! Speaking of which, I have some thank you's to give out:

sourskittles6887, galaxypa, blue1bear, movielover123456, , Shakaka, and BookLover6985: Thank you for adding "Home Away From Home" to your Favorites!

X-RayDog, PrimesGirl93, sourskittles6887, golden-priestess, blue1bear, Arienhod, Heaven's Archer, and BookLover695: Thank you for putting my story on your Story Alert lists!

Lunar Mist: Yes, yes she did. :-P

X-RayDog: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!

linguisticRenegade: Thank you, and more is coming!

JC: Thanks!

Mikari Satsuke: Thank you, and you're welcome about the alert! And don't worry about being sarcastic. It's actually very difficult to detect sarcasm in text because there's no vocal inflection. I usually bleep out the major swears to make it safe for any underage readers who come across this story. Not that I'm saying there's R-rated material here, but if so-and-so's seven-year-old sister takes a peek at the story, I don't want to be the one who "teaches" them the f-bomb. I'll be listening out for you!

Sunstreaker's Squishy: Is it a bug, maybe? I hate that it happened to you, but hopefully the glitch won't happen again! As for your speculations, you'll have to keep reading and find out. ;-) That's an interesting theory about Hannah and Energon poisoning; it's practically a conspiracy unto itself! Vivian and Chris are very close. They have their little spats, but they generally get along very well with each other.

Elhini Prime: Yep, she did! And I would react the same way!

KeepingThemAtBay: I love that cat! And you're welcome about dashing out swear words. I do it for the reasons I gave to Mikari Satsuke a couple of comments above.

Bliss123: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

I Am A Band Nerd: Thanks! There's a reason why the car repair's taking so long, but I'm not telling. The same goes for your theory about Chris. :-P Vivian only reacts that way when she's really agitated. That's great about becoming a doctor! Are you already in medical school?

USSTalos: You'll find out what's next very shortly! *stares down at USSTalos and Burstmaster* Uh . . . you need help getting up?

sourskittles6887: Your wish has been granted! :-D

Cloud-Dancer103: Thank you!

movielover123456: I'm so happy you love it! As for your question, I'll let you figure it out. ;-) And I have!

heavenslilagl420: No, she isn't. I shall, and you will!

Arienhod: I have! It's just down below. *points to story section*

Shakaka! Thank you! Your words were very encouraging, and I'll try to keep updating as often as I can.

And now, without further delay, I give you Chapter Five!

Hannah mirrored the nurse's dumbfounded expression, her mouth open in a silent "o". "Oh honey, you're f-d."

Vivian covered the mouthpiece with her free hand. "I didn't mean to!" she hissed frantically. "I thought it was the stupid security guard!"

"Yeah, but the commander doesn't know that!"

"So what do I do now?!"

"Nothing! You know why? Because you're f-d!"

"No I'm not! I can still salvage this!"

"I assume the problem is not with me, then?" the commander asked, his deep voice resonating in Vivian's ear.

His query turned her focus back to the botched phone conversation. In order to resolve this precarious situation, she needed to handle it with all the dignity and poise it deserved. She took a long steeling breath, cleared her throat, and began to speak.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" she sobbed into the phone, feeling as if she were begging for mercy from a vengeful god. "None of that was meant for you. I thought you were someone else! I don't make a habit of this, I swear! Please don't fire me! Hear me out first! I can explain everything! Please-"

"What's your name?"

Vivian sniffled. " . . . Miss Bennett." She figured it would be safer to give him just part of her name. If he wanted the rest, he could always ask for it.

"Miss Bennett, I need you to take a moment to breathe and calm down. No disciplinary actions will be taken until I know the circumstances surrounding the incident. Take your time." He spoke with the patience of a parent, gentle but firm.

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing in with the nose and out through the mouth, a relaxation technique she often applied to crying schoolchildren when they were brought into her office. Another way to soothe them was to rub her thumb over the back of their hand while she held it, but she doubted doing it to herself would have the same effect.

Hannah's thunderstruck gawking made her think twice about asking her for help.

"Oh, shut up," she mouthed to the secretary.

After a minute had passed, the commander resumed their discussion. "How are you feeling? Better, I hope?"

"Much," Vivian answered, her voice still a little quivery from crying. "You've dealt with weepy people before, I can tell."

"Yes. Comrades, strangers, even some of my soldiers. It happens to all of us, Miss Bennett. Now, tell me what happened."

Vivian sniffed again. "Yes sir." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, an unhygienic act bordering on blasphemy in her line of work. "A little before 3 a.m., I got a text message from the secretary asking me to come to the call center. Turned out the poor woman was sick to her stomach, so I'm sitting here with her until her replacement arrives."

"So you are not a secretary yourself?"

"No sir, I'm the civilian nurse."

_How many times am I going to have to tell people that?_

The commander gave a gasp of recognition. "Oh yes! 'Miss Vivian Elaine Bennett'. I sent you an email when you first arrived on the island." A heavy sigh hissed out of the earpiece. "I apologize, Miss Bennett. My database is normally updated regularly, but recently my time has been consumed by consecutive meetings and inspections, and now I'm on my way to another conference. To tell you the truth, this is the first moment of peace I have had in months. Still, that does not excuse the fact that I neglected to keep my employee information current, and for that, I am sorry."

That was one of the lengthiest apologies Vivian had ever heard, and all he had done was forget her name. He obviously took great pride in his work-staff, making a sound effort to know each individual instead of treating them like faceless peons.

"It's alright! Really!" she assured him. "You're human; you're allowed to make mistakes."

"From your perspective, yes, but when you stand in a prominent position and find yourself under public scrutiny, one blunder can be lethal."

"True, and the fall's a long way down."

A sharp "Pssst!" from the floor snagged her attention.

Vivian looked down to discover Hannah frantically jabbing her finger at the trashcan stashed under the desk. Sensing the urgency, she grabbed the white plastic can and thrust it towards the secretary. Hannah's face promptly disappeared as she shoved her head inside with a heaving cough.

The noise was louder than Vivian expected, because it immediately resulted in the commander asking, "What on earth was that?"

"That would be the secretary, my patient." Vivian transferred the receiver to her other ear and bolstered it with her shoulder. Now with both hands free, she pried open the lid to her emergency kit.

"How is she doing?"

"Better than she was, believe it or not." She pulled out a bottle of water, and handed it to Hannah. "Here; rinse your mouth out," she said to her while twisting off the cap. "I'll take your temperature in a couple of minutes."

The secretary, her head still in the trashcan, reached out with a grappling hand and snatched the bottle away without remark.

"Do you have a diagnosis yet?"

"At the moment, sir, I'm thinking it's just a bad combination of heavy food and heat. All the same, she's in no condition to be working, not like this." She watched Hannah swish and spit her mouthful of water into the can.

"Agreed. She should be taken home as soon as possible."

"Which brings us back to the swearing," Vivian said. "I called a security guard to come pick her up so she could rest in her apartment, but he flat-out refused!" She picked out a thermometer from inside the kit and pulled a plastic slipcover over its tip.

The commander's bass voice deepened further, as if he were speaking out of the depths of a cavern. "Why?"

Vivian shivered; one word was all it took to shift from casual conversation to undeniably ominous. Goosebumps prickled over her bare arms. "H-h-he said that he didn't want her to be sick in his car, that it would be too expensive to clean up."

"You said that she was feeling better."

"She is! That's what I told him! I even offered to give her a trash bag to hold onto in case she threw up again."

"And he still refused."

"That's not the half of it." Vivian paused to swallow.

_He's going to be pissed when I tell him this._

"Come to find out he was also playing a video game. By asking him to drive over here, I would have stopped him from gaining some kind of stupid achievement."

Silence followed on the other end. No breathing, no noise, nothing. Vivian took this time to stick the thermometer into Hannah's mouth and waited for it to beep. She tried to keep herself occupied, but as the quiet moment dragged on, a terrible sense of dread clenched at her stomach.

"Sir?"

Not a sound. She wondered if the phone signal had been disconnected somehow.

"Sir? Are you still there?"

A shrill beeping served as a welcome distraction. Vivian reached down and plucked the thermometer out of her patient's mouth, careful to avoid touching the slipcover with her bare fingers.

"98 degrees exactly," she read, then greeted Hannah's anxious gaze with an encouraging smile. "You're not quite normal-"

"Well, duh! I'm working here! What'd you expect?"

"But the good news is you're not running a fever. Or dead, like the band."

The joke encountered an unenthusiastic audience. "Seriously?" Hannah commented with the quirk of an eyebrow. "You're taking jabs at '90s boy bands now? And I thought I'd gone nuts."

"What? I think it's clever for almost four in the morning."

"98 Degrees hasn't broken up. They're just on hiatus right now. If you'd bothered to check your facts, you would have known that. They'll get back together soon, you'll see."

Vivian had no idea which was more astounding: The fact that Hannah understood the reference; that she understood the reference and eagerly proceeded to correct her; or that she understood the reference, corrected her, and the commander had overheard the entire exchange.

If he was still on the line.

"Come on, Commander. Where are you? Please don't tell me the call got dropped!"

Hannah perked up again at her question. "What, did you lose him?"

"Either that, or he lost me. I'm not sure which. I told him about what the guard did, and he went all quiet after that. He did say he was testing the signal's strength from the plane, though. Maybe it's not quite as stable as he thought."

"Neither are you," the secretary quipped.

"There isn't anything I can do to fix thi—HEY!" Vivian could not deny that Hannah's jibes were proof that her health was improving, but she wished she would find another target for ridicule.

"But all joking aside," Hannah said, "there could be some kind of weather interference, or the equipment on board might be disrupting it."

The dull glow of the lights overhead sputtered for a split second, but it was just sporadic enough for Vivian to notice.

"Or a combination of both." As the nurse watched, they flickered again, the effect nearly imperceptible. "He didn't say where he was. It's probably 'classified', like everything else around here. Surprise, surprise, right?"

Vivian leaned over the desk and strained to look outside through the glass door. Regardless of the darkness, all appeared peaceful and quiet. She admitted her observations were paltry under the circumstances, given the struggle to stare beyond the room's faded reflection in the window, but as far as she could tell, there was nothing to indicate otherwise.

"Well, if the weather's what's causing the issue, it's not from around here," she concluded. "Should I hang up or . . . what the hell?"

Just as she was about to turn to Hannah for direction, she caught sight of the desk phone's display.

"What happened now?" Hannah sat up and rested her chin on the edge of the desk, like a child trying to peek over a tall shelf. An equally perplexed expression washed over her features, fine lines tracing across her forehead as she raised her brow. "Uh huh. . ."

Normally the caller's name would flash on the screen when the phone rang. That was not the case here. A garbled mess of numbers jumbled across the display, cluttering it with digits that bore absolutely no resemblance to a phone number or anything either woman could recognize.

The commander was still there, in some capacity. What, had yet to be determined.

"I'm going with a glitch on this one," Hannah decided, although her tone suggested that she had not quite convinced herself.

Vivian, with a ginger hand, set the phone receiver down on the desk. "It wasn't me! All I did was dial a number! That's it!"

"You sure about that? Looks like you punched the keypad. Can't say I blame you, either."

"Believe me, I'm pissed off at the guard, but the poor phone doesn't need to take that kind of abuse. Not on his behalf. It's not worth the effort, and I'd like to keep my knuckles intact, thank you. Better save it for something and someone more worthwhile." Vivian curled her hand into a fist and studied it. These knuckles, white with tautness, had been the weapon of choice during her childhood. Infrequent as they were, fights with the neighbor's kids typically ended with both sides crying home to their parents, bearing bruises and scrapes of all kinds on every inch of bare skin. Whether she won or lost, fought alone or allied with Chris, who tried his best to keep her out of fights altogether, her fists were her primary means of offense and defense. There were times when she would march into the house brandishing them like they were trophies, if her family overlooked the fact that they were red and scraped raw from application.

"YO!"

Vivian flinched at the outburst. "Huh! What?!"

"I _said_," Hannah snipped, "'I think I know why the screen looks like it does', but apparently I'm talking to a damn statue!"

"Sorry," Vivian said, waving her off. "It's late. Or is it early now? But anyway, sorry about that. Go ahead. What're you thinking? It's not actually a glitch?"

"No. Worse. It's a call from an outside line."

The nurse furrowed her brow, trying to understand how that could be worse than a technological problem. "Explanation, please."

"N.E.S.T.'s communications network is private, not to mention locked down with all kinds of security software. Only people who are directly involved in the organization have access to it. That goes for phones, too."

"So how does that apply?"

"Hold on, lady! I'm not done! Geez!" Hannah huffed. She reached back and tugged her dark braid over her shoulder, curling its tapered end around her finger while she talked. "All phone calls to N.E.S.T. are directed to the base first before they are sent to the appropriate personnel or office or whatever. Even if the Caller I.D. doesn't display a name, it would still show that the call was transferred from the base's call center. This one didn't. Huge flaming red flag right there!"

"But wait, hang on!" Vivian interrupted. "The commander's calling from the plane. Seeing as how it's N.E.S.T.'s plane, shouldn't it be part of the network too?"

"It is, but if he was really using the plane's phone, the Caller I.D. would show it, and that's got nothing to do with any signal."

"But let's say he's using someone else's cell phone-"

"Caller I.D."

"Dammit!"

"Regardless of what this guy is using, it's not being recognized by the network. That's why it's worse than a glitch. It means that whoever patched through to you most likely hacked his way in."

Vivian nearly scoffed at the idea. "You can really hack into a phone line?"

"It takes a lot of work and techy know-how, but yes."

"But where would he get all the numbers from, Hannah? You're starting to sound like my brother and his conspiracy crap."

The secretary tossed her braid back over her shoulder. "Look, all I'm telling you is what I think's going on. It's called an educated guess, and I'm guessing that whoever you're talking to on the phone right now might not be the commander at all."

The door was almost hurled off its hinges as a broad hand slammed it open. Hannah, who had been sitting up while talking with Vivian, let out a startled yelp and scurried back behind the nurse's chair. Vivian, now trapped between her terrified patient and a solid wooden desk, had no alternative but to face this foreboding stranger.

A tall hulking male figure stormed into the call center without a word, his biceps bulging out from the sleeves of his navy blue uniform. His dark tan gleamed like copper, even under the dim fluorescent lights. Evidently he preferred outdoor training to working out inside. He strode up to the desk before she could properly look him over, but she assumed that he was most likely just as robust from the waist down as he was from there on up.

The plastic tumbling sound from the rear signaled a relapse in Hannah's ailment. In light of the current predicament, Vivian could hardly blame her.

"Can I . . . help you?" She spoke slowly in an attempt to pacify him, as if she were talking to an aggressive dog.

He hunched over the desk and fixed her with an icy stare. "Alright. You win. I'm here. Where is she?"

Vivian questioned the logic of handing Hannah over to this seething behemoth. "Back here," she said, slipping an indicatory glance behind her. "You ready for her?"

"Yeah. Just one question, though."

She was tempted to ask if he ever spoke in anything other than fragments, but quickly decided against it. Sarcasm would most likely land her in a body cast right now. Instead, she said, "Sure. What is it?"

"Why the hell did you have to blow it up?!"

Vivian could hear Hannah coughing into the trashcan again. "I would answer you," she said, trying to assuage this raging security guard, "but it would help if I knew what you were talking about first."

This only succeeded in angering him further. His hazel eyes blazed with renewed fury. "ONE!" he shouted, pounding his clenched fist onto the desk, scattering supplies everywhere. "I was ONE headshot away from getting that sniper rifle, and BAM! My X-Box explodes! Bits of melted hardware all over the place!"

"And you're blaming me for this? Does this desk look like a control panel?! Do I look like an electrician?!"

"No, but I'm going to have to call one out to the office, thanks to you. The wall outlet looks like a melted marshmallow."

"Our lights were flickering a while ago. N.E.S.T. must have been having some kind of issue with the power."

"Don't care. You still owe me a new X-Box."

"I didn't do anything! That was karma!"

The guard paused in mid-rant. "Oh, it was? Where is she now?"

Vivian wondered just how stupid this man truly was. "Karma's not a woman! It's . . . ah hell, never mind."

The guard suddenly leaned in until his nose was barely an inch away from her face. "You're going to cough up the cash for a new X-Box. Now."

"You know we don't get paid in cash," she growled.

"I'm talking about what you've got on you. What am I, stupid?"

Before Vivian could stop herself, she answered, "YES!"

Just as she realized her mistake, he grabbed the front of her tank top and jerked her out of the chair. His knuckles cracked as he clenched a fist and drew it back for the impact. Vivian was fully aware that this would be nothing like a punch from the Jones twins back home. All she could do was scrunch her eyes shut and wait for the blow.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF FRAG IS GOING ON?!"

Both assailant and potential victim snapped their gazes to the door.

Kate stood in the entrance, impeccably dressed as usual, her face slack with horror.

"Nothing, ma'am," the guard said, setting the nurse down. "I was just-"

"Like f—k it was 'nothing'!" Vivian shouted. "You were about to plow my teeth out of the back of my skull!"

Kate crossed her arms over her chest, giving the guard a doubtful look. "'Nothing', huh? Considering what I watched you almost do, I'm more inclined to agree with Vivian at this point."

"Her name's Vivian? I thought it was Karma."

"No! Karma refers to a Hindu and Buddhist philosophy where . . . actually, forget it. I can already tell my effort's wasted on you."

"I can explain what happened, ma'am. I was-"

"Oh, you won't have to explain anything to me! After I report you to Major Lennox, you'll have a chance to explain for as long as you like!"

"You won't have to."

Kate and the guard looked back. Vivian was staring intently down at the desk, looking as if she had just discovered something miraculous.

In her mind, she had.

"Vivian?" Kate asked tentatively. "What are you talking about?"

"Neither of you will have to." Vivian picked up the phone receiver, which had somehow managed to avoid the destructive fate of the other office supplies.

And the numbers were still on the display screen.

"You want to know who I was talking to before you marched your ass in here?" she asked the guard.

He shrugged. "Major Lennox?"

"Nope. Think higher."

Kate swallowed hard. ". . . The commander," she whispered.

"Yep, and guess what? We never hung up, which means that he was listening in the entire time and overheard everything you said. You won't have to write any report, Kate, because he just heard it all. Pretty open-and-shut, I'd say."

By now, the guard was visibly trembling. He jammed his hands into his pockets in an effort to cover up his fear. "You're bluffing," he said in a controlled but higher-pitched voice. "He's not really on there. You're lying."

"Am I? Are you willing to stake your job and reputation on that?" Vivian held the phone out to him. "Go ahead; take it. Talk to him. See if I'm lying. Either way, you're f-d."

For a moment, it looked like the guard was going to take her up on the offer. He took two steps towards the phone and reached out to grab it. Maybe it was the fact that two incensed women were staring him down, or maybe that infinitesimal grain of common sense finally kicked in. Whatever his motives, he let his hand drop to his side and he backed away, keeping what remained of his pride intact.

"Good choice," Vivian said, setting the phone back down on the desk. "Now Kate, I don't know what's supposed to happen from here, but-"

"What was his reason for coming here?" the blonde asked.

"He was supposed to take Hannah back to her apartment, but obviously that didn't happen." The nurse turned to check on her patient.

She found Hannah huddled on the floor, her face as white as milk and cuddling the trashcan to her chest like it was a stuffed toy.

Kate spoke up again. "Don't worry; I've got this." She beckoned the guard over with a slender hand. "You, sir, are going to take this poor woman home. I'm going with you to make sure you do your job and give you further instructions. Now, get to it."

The guard obeyed without question. He wandered behind the desk, carefully scooped the sick secretary off the floor, and carried her to the door, where Kate stood by holding it open for him.

"Man the desk for a bit. We'll be back soon," Kate said, then grabbed the trashcan by the entrance and shut the door behind them.

Vivian found herself entirely alone in the call center. It was unnervingly quiet now. Her conversations with Hannah and the commander, as well as the skirmish with the guard, had drowned out the silence. Now, with the whirr of the air condition as sole company, she struggled to occupy herself with noise. She set about tidying up the office area, where all every piece of clutter on the desk had been roughly transferred to the floor.

"Miss Bennett? Are you there?"

She hastily dropped her handful of pens and rushed to grab the phone receiver. "Yes sir, I'm still here," she answered breathlessly.

"Good. Are you hurt?"

"I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, sir. Thanks for asking." She paused to wipe a sweaty palm on her pajama shorts. "I take it then that you heard everything?"

"All of it. I knew he would be unhappy about the fate of his game console, but I had no idea he would react so violently to its destruction."

"How'd you manage to pull that off?"

"I have an associate who is an electrician, of sorts." Vivian imagined him smiling as he spoke. "When I informed him of the guard's actions, I asked that he increase the voltage in the power outlet until the console short-circuited."

"Oh, he did more than that, sir. The freakin' thing exploded like a shrapnel grenade!"

"So I heard. Unfortunately, he also carries an inclination towards mischief, which explains the console's subsequent detonation rather than the minor electrical fault I had in mind."

"To be fair, though, the guard would have probably reacted the same way even if the damage was small."

"Perhaps," the commander said, making a meditative sound. "But what matters is that no one was harmed. Speaking of which, what became of Hannah?"

"The guard carried her out. Kate went with him, of course, to make sure he didn't try anything stupid."

"He already has, and his mistake will cost him dearly."

"I'm just glad he forgot about Hannah while he was angry. I can't imagine what he would have tried to do to her if he saw her, at that point."

"I would rather not speculate on that." There was a momentary pause before he sighed and said, "Well, I think I have kept you awake long enough. If you have any questions for me, now would be the best time to ask them."

"Yes, I do, actually. But just one." This particular question that had been nagging at her since Hannah shared her theories about it.

"Ask away."

"Why is your name not showing up on the Caller I.D. display screen? It looks like some ungodly hybrid of pi and binary code."

The commander chuckled, a sound that made her blush. "That would be because I am on a private channel," he explained. "We are in the process of connecting everyone to N.E.S.T.'s network. Not everyone has been verified yet, including me, but I appreciate your input, nonetheless."

"You're welcome." _I think_, she added silently. Unease stilled gnawed on her conscience.

"Now, I have a question for you. Actually, this was the reason I called in the first place."

"Oh? Sure. What is it?"

Soft footsteps caught her ears. Vivian looked back to watch Kate close the door and take small steps, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

"How is the quality of the sound? If any adjustments are necessary, I need to know."

The blonde rested her elbows on the edge of the desk, waiting patiently for her friend to leave.

"It's a little tinny, to be honest, but other than that, it sounds great." She glanced up at her friend. "Uh, sir? The replacement secretary's here, if you wanted to talk to her."

"If you could hand me off to her, I would be grateful."

"Okay. Will do, sir." Vivian passed the phone off to Kate. "Here you go. He's all yours."

"Thanks." Kate landed in the seat the moment the nurse stood up. "I'll talk to you later about tonight, okay? And nice job on that bluff! That was a real 'spur of the moment' deal!"

_Yeah. A bluff. Right._

Vivian packed up her emergency kit, waved goodbye and opened the door to the muggy tropical night outside. She only had about three hours left in which to sleep, but after tonight, she deserved them.

The look on Kate's face when she learned the truth behind Vivian's supposed "bluff" would have been a more ample reward.

7:30 a.m. arrived all too soon.

When the alarm rang, Vivian trudged out of bed to take her shower as per habit. By the time she came out in her bathrobe fifteen minutes later, three new messages had popped up on her smartphone, evidenced by its irritating buzz as the device quivered across her desk.

"Alright then," she muttered as she picked it up and sat on the edge of her bed. "Let's see what we've got."

The first email was from Kate:

"Sorry! I tried! "

Vivian grimaced. "Uh oh. Kate, what did you try to do?"

She scrolled down to the next one, which contained Kate's lengthy account of the confrontation from the night before, as well as a request to give Vivian the day off. It also included the chief medical officer's derisive reply:

"The only reason why you wouldn't be at work is if you're dead. Since it's quite obvious that you're not, I suggest you report to your station before I drive out to your house and drag you there myself."

"Ah, there's Doc's friendly bedside manner I've heard so much about," Vivian grumbled. "Oh well. I can't say I'm not surprised. Thanks anyway, Kate. I appreciate it."

The third one left her puzzled. There was no name or email return address in the "FROM" text box, just a blank where the contact information should have been. She opened the message and began to read:

"Miss Bennett, I wanted to take a moment to thank you for last night's discussion. In spite of its proceedings, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and hope the sentiment is shared. The relief a willing ear provides is boundless and, determined by the individual, reciprocal. I look forward to lengthier and less hazardous conversations with you in the near future."

"Well, that was sweet of him!" she said, smiling. "The commander actually took time out of his packed schedule to send me that! He sounds like a decent guy. Too bad there's no return address; I'd message him back if I could. Damn security measures."

The phone buzzed in her hand, derailing her train of thought. A new message appeared on the phone's screen:

"Good morning! I'm ready to talk about last night if you are! Come on down to the cafeteria when you can! I'll be waiting for you in our booth (or should I say 'our spot'? Hahaha!)! "

"Oh God, Kate," Vivian groaned. "It's too early for that many exclamation points. I'd better go before she starts hurling question marks or winky faces at me."

She stood up and rushed to dress herself, but not solely to avoid another barrage of exploited punctuation and emoticons. Kate had only been present for the latter part of the scuffle; she deserved to know what happened before she arrived at the call center. She more than likely asked the commander about the confrontation after Vivian left, but his account would just be a fraction of the whole. The guard may have shared his version of what transpired as well, which undoubtedly portrayed the nurse in a villain's role, and Hannah, who witnessed the entire affair despite her illness, never had a chance to speak. Regardless of what she said, N.E.S.T. protocol demanded that Kate, due to her direct affiliation with the military organization, needed to fill out an incident report. Unless Vivian spoke to the secretary first, key details would be omitted that might save her reputation.

After pulling on a pair of blue scrubs, she gathered her essentials and left for the cafeteria, determined to defend her good name and, if possible, find the answers to a few burning questions of her own.

Please feel free to drop a review. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! See you at the next chapter!


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